Waterproof
by mircosedy
Summary: Dean is MIA. Sam can only assume the worst as he searches for his brother. Castiel's grace is dwindling, taking him with it. Gabriel (surprise!) is alive and kicking. Candi Lockwood doesn't know who any of them are, or why they would take a sudden interest in her. But soon she will become frightfully aware that she is Dean's Colette. Or... is she? Post S9 finale, AU after S10 aired
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm really enjoying writing this story, and I dearly hope you come to love it as well. I'm motivated by response, so the more I get, the more likely I will continue this in a timely manner. :) So please, let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters.**

* * *

_~For the Gabriel in my dream~_

_Thank you for making sure I wasn't left behind._

_It's because of you I was able to save my family from the Weeping Angel apocalypse._

* * *

Chapter One

"Fold." Cupid slapped down his cards in annoyance and picked up his glass of wine, swirling it gently before taking a swig.

Gabriel smiled—although he was well aware that his smiles often came off more as smirks. And he would have it no other way. He set his cards face up on the table. "Full house," he said, and took a sip of his own wine before collecting. "Shall we go for another round?"

"Why not?" Cupid reorganized his already organized chips, then leaned back as he watched Gabriel shuffle. "What you think of the Winchester situation?"

"What?" Gabriel dealt the cards. He glanced up at Cupid's raised eyebrows. "Oh, you mean with dear old Dean and that mark? The Mark. Of. Cain." He shot each word of the phrase out, finishing his deal and settling back in his chair, fingering his chips. "Five in."

"I raise." Cupid put in fifteen.

Gabriel smirked again, and glanced down at his cards, even though he knew he would have a favorable hand. And if not, he would give himself one. One of the perks of being the Trickster. As long as Cupid didn't catch on…

"So… what do you think?" Cupid prodded again. "Do you think the rumors are true? That Dean was killed and came back as a demon? A powerful one at that. And is now working for _Crowley, _of all people…"

Gabriel traded out his cards. He was going to have a straight flush, if he was lucky. "I've learned to stay out of Winchester business," he said absently, chucking a few more chips into the pot. Cupid followed suit, but frowned at his cards.

"Ah, yes. You still haven't told them?"

Gabriel huffed out a laugh. "As if. Why would I do a silly thing like that?"

Cupid shrugged. They were silent for a moment as they continued their game. Cupid spoke up again. "You know… If Dean's a powerful demon now, there's nothing we can do to change that."

"Nnnnnope." Gabriel took another gulp of his wine.

"But." Cupid leaned forward, as if about to share in some conspiracy theory. "We angels in Heaven arranged a little plan to deter _Cain_ from his… violence."

Gabriel silently snickered at Cupid calling himself an angel. Cherubs were barely heavenly beings. He pulled a tootsie pop out of thin air and ripped off the wrapper. "Lemme guess. You hooked him up?"

"Well… yes. I mean, Cain and Colette were destined for each other. We got the orders, we shot, and presto! Cain was suddenly a loyal dog to that human. Very sweet."

Gabriel stuck the tootsie pop in his mouth and smirked around it. "If you say so."

"I'm done playing," Cupid said, setting his cards down. "This angel knows when he's been toyed with the Trickster." He gave Gabriel a meaningful look, to which Gabriel tried to look innocent. And failed. But hey, Cupid had it coming.

"You know," Cupid said, making himself even more comfortable in his chair, "I could look into Dean Winchester's destiny. See if he has any future love interests that could become his… salvation, you could say."

"And why would you do that?" Gabriel said, standing. They were in one of Gabriel's hidden get-a-ways. This one was a nice celebrity mansion in New Jersey that was perfectly immaculate and very modern. He made his way into the grand living room, where a giant flat screen waited for him. Cupid followed him in, forcing a disbelieving laugh.

"Dean Winchester is terrifying as a human alone. Can you imagine what he can do as a _demon? _The way he is now, he is Crowley's biggest weapon."

"Against what?" Gabriel asked, plopping down on the leather couch. "Heaven? I think Crowley's tied up in trying to fix up Hell currently."

"Yes, but then what?" Cupid sat in a large over-stuffed chair, leaning forward. He reached for one of the many cupcakes sitting on a stand on the table in front of him, peeling off the paper lining and popping the whole thing in his mouth. He spoke around the cupcake. "He'll cause a lot of destruction here on Earth. Don't you think he'll make his way up eventually?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Crowley is relatively harmless. He goes by a code. Dean, however…" he popped his tootsie pop back in his mouth, sucked on it, and drew it out, pointing the shrinking orb at Cupid, "Dean could definitely be a hazard when he's let off the leash."

Cupid grabbed another cupcake. "Say we attempt to avoid that. Don't you remember how it used to be, Gabriel? We used to _help _people."

Gabriel shifted so he was leaning against the arm of the couch, feet stretched out in front of him. "Yeah, well. That was then. This is now. I'm not coming out of hiding because the Winchester boy was stupid enough to take on the Mark. Let Sam and dear Castiel figure it out. They usually think of something."

Cupid was silent for a moment. He had eaten four cupcakes, but now he stared at his meaty hands in silence. "What if… What if we make a deal with Sam? I'm sure he'll do anything right now to get his brother back."

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "A deal? Since when do you make deals?"

"I don't normally. But you do."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Winchester's can't know I'm still alive. I want to pop up at the opportune moment, if that moment ever comes. And currently, this isn't it."

Cupid frowned. "Well then… I can just go offer my services for free." He stood. "Like a good angel should."

Gabriel sat up. "Leaving?"

"I've worn out my stay, I believe." He opened his arms wide.

Gabriel sighed, and stood. "Just… don't…"

Cupid wrapped his large arms tightly around Gabriel and squeezed, making Gabriel choke. He patted him awkwardly on the back. "Okay, Cupid. Enough's enough."

Cupid stepped back with a grin, lightly punching Gabriel in the shoulder. "Sure you won't join me?"

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair. "Well. Now that I think about it…. I'd like to be kept up-to-date on this. So… you go offer your, uh, services to Sam Winchester, and, well… let me know how it goes." He pointed his tootsie pop at Cupid again. "I'm interested to see if Dean is… _destined _for someone, as you say."

Cupid's grin grew wider, and he slapped Gabriel on the back again. "Will do, brother. Until then…"

He was gone.

Gabriel stood in silence a moment. It was nice having Cupid over once in a while. He was one of the _very _few who knew he was still alive. And Gabriel intended to keep it that way for a long time.

But, as he settled down to do as he pleased, he was struck by a loneliness that wasn't altogether new. It got lonely when he couldn't trust—or be trusted.

Maybe… maybe he _was_ interested in messing with the Winchesters again. But the Trickster didn't trick just because. There had to be a purpose behind it.

So he'd keep tabs on them through Cupid. Maybe he would learn something worthwhile.

* * *

Sam took another swig of his beer, then set it down on the table with a clack before scooting closer to his open laptop and typing in another search term. He glanced up when Castiel walked in, and cleared his throat. "Find anything?"

Castiel shook his head, and took a seat across from Sam. "It's like he vanished into thin air."

Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair and swiping a hand down his face, then shaking his head to try and clear it. He'd never gotten much sleep most his life, but this hunt for Dean was really draining him. "We'll find him," he finally said. It had only been two weeks since Dean's disappearance. They would find something eventually.

Castiel answered with silence before getting up from his chair and pacing around the room.

Sam suddenly couldn't take the silence any longer, and stood from the chair in frustration. He swiped a hand through his hair. "I just don't get it," he said, "Dean died in my arms. I'm sure of it. I dragged him all the way back here."

"Sam, there's no need to—"

"No," Sam interrupted. "No, I need to go over this again with you. So our theory right now is that Crowley brought him back. But why?"

Castiel sighed, and took a seat at the table. "Maybe… maybe he wants Dean's help with something."

"Yeah, maybe." Sam paused, thinking. When he had summoned Crowley the night Dean died, he never showed. And then when he went to visit Dean in his room, he was gone, along with the first blade. That was all Sam knew. He'd tried summoning Crowley several times since, to no avail. He and Cas had trapped several demons to get more information, but they didn't know where Crowley or Dean was.

They had caught onto a rumor, however. But it was so disturbing that Sam dismissed it from his mind, even though it plagued him day and night. But it was just a rumor. Not even the demons could prove or guarantee the validity of it. Wherever Crowley and Dean were, they were keeping it very hush-hush.

Sam and Cas had also entertained the possibility that Crowley had nothing to do with it. Something else could have happened to Dean. His body could have been taken for unknown reasons.

The angels had no idea what had happened either. Castiel was suddenly on good terms with most of them again, so it didn't seem like they would lie. However, they were the ones who told them about the rumors.

No, the best theory they had was that Crowley had brought Dean back to life and was holding him hostage somewhere. Or Dean had gone with him willingly. They _had _been a little friendlier with each other the last few weeks of Dean's life…

…But why wouldn't he tell Sam where he was?

"Helllllllooooo dear boys!" Sam nearly fell out of his chair at the sudden noise, and Castiel shot up from his seat.

"…Cupid?"

Now Sam recognized the pudgy cherub who was (thankfully) wearing clothes this time. A nice suit and a bow tie. The lower class angel grinned from ear to ear as he spread his arms wide. "Miss me, Castiel?"

Castiel groaned, but Cupid popped up behind him and wrapped his meaty arms around Castiel's stiff frame and lifted him from the ground. "It's _good _to see you, brother!" He suddenly froze, and put Castiel down slowly. "Castiel," he said simply.

Castiel ducked his head down, then looked up at Cupid. "Yes, my, um… my grace…"

"I can feel that stolen grace burning up inside you, brother. You can't hold out forever."

Castiel nodded. Cupid clasped him on the shoulder, then turned to Sam, his grin returning to full strength. He stretched his arms out.

Sam forced an awkward smile. "Uh, hi." He knew there was nothing he could do to stop the crushing hug, so he stood there and allowed it to happen. He was sure Cupid cracked some of his ribs.

When the angel finally stepped back, his face suddenly turned sober. "Now. I'm here on some serious business. I have a solution for Dean."

Sam and Castiel exchanged glances. "You know where he is?" Sam asked.

"Well… no. But when you _do _find him, I have a way to cure him! Well, not _cure _him exactly, I can't do that. But see, with Cain…"

"Woah, woah, woah hold up." Sam took a step closer to Cupid. "What do you mean, _cure _him?"

"Well, as I just said, I can't exactly cure him, but Cain—"

"Cupid, just shut up for a second, okay? Cas and I aren't following you."

Cupid froze, and looked from Sam to Castiel and back again. "Wait… so you don't know?"

"Don't know _what?" _Sam pressed.

Cupid's face fell. "Oh, boys. You'd better sit back down for this. I never dreamed I'd have to be the one to tell you."

A sickening, sinking feeling writhed in Sam's stomach. He took Cupid's advice and sat down. Castiel stood standing.

Cupid took a deep breath. "Well, there's something about Cain that not many people know. When he learned what he'd become, he killed himself with the blade. But… the mark wouldn't let him go that easily. It brought him back. But not in a good way…"

Sam already knew what Cupid was going to say. Castiel said it for him. "He came back as a demon."

Cupid nodded.

Sam filled in the blanks out loud. "So you're saying… that when Dean died… the mark brought him back as a…." He couldn't even say it. He sat back in his chair, exhaling slowly. "So then the rumors are true."

"I'm sorry to have been the bringer of bad news. _But _I have something of a solution."

Sam was too stunned to speak. Castiel spoke for him. "Let's hear it."

Cupid pulled up a chair and sat, leaning forward. "Okay. So. When Cain brought about his reign of terror, it was ugly. Heaven had to step in. But we didn't want to smite Cain down… and anyways, that would have been nearly impossible. Maybe Michael would have been up to the task, but…" He shrugged. "There's not much that can kill a demon as powerful as Cain was. But we also knew that he didn't want that life. We knew it was the mark, and the blade, that was doing this to him. So. We decided to clear up some of the dark fog." Cupid grinned, looking pleased with himself.

"It was one of the most important missions in Heaven. We had to find Cain's soul mate. His… _salvation, _if you will."

"Colette." Sam remembered Dean telling him that part.

Cupid nodded. "But you see… we love angels can't just shoot whoever we want and expect it to work out. They have to be _destined _for each other. Unfortunately, Colette wasn't even around until centuries later, but when we found her… we got them together." He grinned, then shrugged. "And sure, she didn't _cure _him. But she sure made him a lot nicer."

Castiel spoke. "So you're saying we should find Dean's soul mate to try and get him to come around…"

Cupid shrugged. "Like it or not, Dean is going to become a very nasty person, if he isn't already. He and Crowley, working together… You don't want that."

"No, we don't," Sam murmured.

"So you can find Dean's soul mate, then?" Castiel asked.

"Yes. Perhaps. If I had something of Dean's. I can see a… a vision, if you will, of who this person might be. Keep in mind, though," Cupid said, raising a finger, "She might not be around yet."

Sam nodded. "Understood."

"Sam." Castiel laid a hand on his shoulder. "We need to talk in private for a moment." He looked to Cupid. "Do you mind?"

Cupid leaned back in his chair, looking completely at home. "Take all the time you need."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey guys! I'd like to say a special thank you to suburbantimewaster, angeljetfire, and M.T. Linshaw for reviewing, and to those of you who have followed/favorited this story. You guys are awesome! :)**

* * *

Chapter Two

"You need to concentrate, Dean."

Crowley watched as Dean screwed up his face, focusing all his will power on levitating the beat-up truck in front of him. It hovered a few feet above the ground.

"Good, good…" Crowley walked around so he was standing on the other side of the truck from Dean. "Now move it so you can see me."

Dean growled. Actually _growled. _Then, with a yell, he threw the truck through the air, where it smashed through the wall of the warehouse they were next to. Crowley stared at the damage for a moment, then turned slowly to Dean. "Very good, squirrel."

Dean blinked, turning his pitch black eyes back to their normal green. He shook himself. "That felt…"

"Good, right?" Crowley interjected. "Powerful?"

Dean didn't reply. He turned, took a few steps forward, then swiveled so he was facing Crowley again. "It feels _wrong_, Crowley."

"You keep telling yourself that, Dean." Crowley took several steps closer. "Because you're only lying. You're angry. Upset. But hey, being a demon isn't that bad. And you… you may be the most powerful demon in history, aside from Cain, of course."

Dean shook his head, his face hardening. "I don't want it."

Crowley shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. "You're the one who took on the mark. You knew there would be a price to pay."

"Not this." Dean flexed his hands, shaking his head. "Not this."

Crowley watched him. Just stood and watched him. The man—er, demon—was tearing himself up from the inside out. It took Crowley a week just to get him to try out any of his powers. Standing in front of him was a creature who had so much potential… and he didn't even want it.

Honestly, Crowley thought Dean would be a lot less… _human _at this point. But although Dean had definitely changed, he still had a few ounces of his humanity left in him. But Crowley was confident that wouldn't linger around long.

He knew he was working with a ticking time bomb. Dean would only fall deeper into this pit he'd crawled in, and Crowley sure as hell wasn't going to be on his bad side when the storm hit.

Dean was scowling at him now. "What?" he snapped rather impatiently.

Crowley pulled himself out of his thoughts, and gave Dean one of his slyest smiles. "You, Dean Winchester, will become one of the greats. You'll see."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, one of the greatest ironies." He shook his head, turning around to storm back into the warehouse.

That first week was tough. Dean insisted he had to tell his brother, that he had to see him. Crowley did his best to convince Dean that that simply was not an option right now. Who knew what Moose would do when he found out? And that angel (or lack thereof) would throw a hissy fit. And, of course, they would both blame it all on _him. _

Soon Dean began to see things his way. Then he felt incredibly ashamed. Crowley didn't know if Dean would ever be able to face his little brother again.

In that same first week, Dean was in self-denial. Big time. He insisted it was just a side effect of the mark, that it would fade away… he didn't seem to realize that a demon was simply what he had _become. _And once that settled in, he insisted that he could be "cured," as if he could simply reverse the transformation. What he (again) didn't seem to realize at the time was that he wasn't just _any _demon. He had replaced bloody Cain. He was _the _demon. A powerful one. And no matter how hard he tried, he would not be able to escape the mark without giving it to someone else, and that wasn't happening.

Now, while they were well into Dean's second week of demon-dom, Dean was finally letting Crowley teach him a few things. Helping him harness his enormous power. And showing him how to unleash that power full force.

Crowley again examined the truck that was embedded in the wall. Yes, he was balancing on a tight rope. But if he could make it across, it would benefit him to no end. His problems would be solved. He and Dean—they'd be the new duo. Moose had nothing on this one. He'd die off soon enough. And Castiel, with his dwindling grace… he was as good as dead.

He would once again be the King. The King of everything.

He just had to get Dean to understand that they could work together on this. So, he'd give him a few weeks. He'd train him. He'd show him what he was capable of.

Show him how to be a proper demon.

* * *

"Sam, you realize Cupid'll probably need to use his bow for this to work."

Castiel had led Sam into the next room, where Cupid couldn't hear them. Sam grimaced. He knew how upset Dean had been when he learned that their parents had been set up by the likes of Cupid. As if becoming a demon wasn't bad enough, now he had to get the love juice to the heart as well.

Sam couldn't wrap his mind around it. Dean, a demon. Not possible. Dean would rather die. He had been staring at the wall behind Castiel, but now he met the angel's bright blue eyes. "Cas… do you think Dean is still… Dean?"

Castiel's eyes flickered away from his and lowered to the ground. "The mark had its roots in him long before he was killed. It was already changing him."

In other words, no. Castiel did not believe Dean was now the same Dean they had always known. The next thought came to Sam unbidden. "Do you think… don't you think it would just be best to…" He trailed off, and Castiel watched him, waiting for his next words. Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I mean, if this doesn't work… We may have no other choice but to…"

"Kill him?" Castiel looked surprised Sam would ever suggest it.

Sam couldn't believe it either. "I'm just saying that… This isn't what Dean would have wanted. He would have wanted us to… to end him."

Castiel's eyes bored into Sam's until he had to look away. "I've thought of that," Castiel admitted. "But…. If there's one thing Dean's taught me… it's that you never stop fighting."

Sam nodded, clenching his jaw to keep from letting his emotions show. Then he faced Castiel again, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's do this, then."

Castiel followed Sam back to the room where Cupid was still waiting. Sam looked to Castiel for support, then back at Cupid. He took a deep breath. "Okay. We'll let you do what you do best, and then figure out what to do from there."

Cupid grinned until his eyes could barely be seen. "I'll need a few things."

* * *

No one knew he was watching. But he was there, observing every move, every word.

Gabriel looked over Cupid's shoulder as the cherub added some ingredients to a bowl and began chanting in Enochian. Supposedly, he would be able to see Dean's destined lover in the glistening liquid. Glimpses, anyway.

Castiel and Sam were so intent on what Cupid was doing, it was almost comical. As if this were really going to get them anywhere. It wouldn't fix much. Dean would still be a demon. There wasn't much they could do about that.

The liquid inside the bowl began to swirl, and Cupid started humming as he studied whatever he saw in there. "He'll find what he needs in Maine," he said softly. His voice had lost its bright edge. He sounded very much like he was under some hypnotic trance. "Camden, Maine." He was pensive for a few moments. "She's got dark hair. Blue eyes. And her name… I think I can see it. It starts with… It starts with a… a C."

Gabriel couldn't help rolling his eyes. There could be any number of dark haired girls in Maine whose name started with a C.

"…Followed by an… A. The rest is too blurry. Oh, my." He peered deeper into the liquid. "She and her family are under a curse." He stared deeply in the liquid for a few more moments, then looked up, his pensive face broken. "That's all I can say."

The moment shattered and he stood, scraping the chair back and shaking his head. Sam and Castiel glanced at each other, and Sam leaned forward. "That's it?"

Cupid grinned. "Good news, fellas. You don't have to wait centuries until she's born. She's waiting for you in Maine right now."

Sam's eyebrows were nearly disappearing into his hair. "That's… _it?"_

Cupid frowned. "Um… yes?"

Sam drew a hand down his face. "That's all we have to go on? Cupid, there could be any number of girls like that in Maine."

"Well, Camden is a relatively small town. I'm sure you won't have much trouble."

Sam nodded, then relaxed his face. "Thanks for your help. We'll head over there now, see if we can find this girl."

Cupid smiled, then pulled Sam into a bone-crushing hug. "No problem, pal. Now here's the challenge—getting her and Dean together so we can shoot the arrow." He winked.

Sam's face faltered a bit. "Yeah. Yeah, that might be rather difficult saying as we have no idea where Dean is at." He looked over at Castiel. "Maybe we should split up."

Castiel nodded. "I'll keep looking for Dean. You find the girl."

Sam nodded, was about to turn to Cupid, then spun to face Castiel again. His face creased in confusion for a moment. Castiel tilted his head. "What is it, Sam?"

Sam stared at him a moment longer, then shook his head. "N-Nothing. Um. Wow." Sam visibly shook himself, then turned to Cupid. "Thanks again."

Cupid nodded. "Just give me a holler when you get the two together. Until then…"

The angel was gone, and Sam still looked slightly confused. Castiel frowned. "You can tell me what's going on, Sam."

Gabriel almost laughed. Even he was astounded by the similarities of this mystery girl and a certain someone else in the room…

"It's nothing, Cas." Sam patted him on the back. "I'd better get going."

The two separated, and Gabriel hovered over the liquid still sitting in the bowl for a moment. Perhaps he should pay this girl a visit sometime.

The girl who was apparently Dean Winchester's salvation.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hugs to those of you who have reviewed/followed/favorited this story so far! It means a lot! **

**And now to address some confusion: I really don't want to give much of the story away, but I will say now that this is not a destiel fic in the traditional sense. I am not giving Dean and Castiel a romantic relationship. However, do not let that deter you from the Dean/Cas moments I will put in here. I think they do love each other- but there is more than one type of love.**

**I hope that clears everything up! Enjoy this next chapter!**

* * *

Chapter Three

The car horn blared so loudly Candi almost fell off her bike. She swiveled, then swooped out of the line of traffic. She hated riding her bike to work.

She cut past Center Street, then went down a few blocks until she reached Humphrey's Bows and Bonnets, where she skidded to a stop and quickly locked her bike up to a lamp post before rushing in. The little bell dinged when she rushed through the door, and a wave of old lady perfume hit her.

"Sorry I'm late!" she called, shedding her jacket and making for the back room to hang it up. There was an audible sigh from the front counter, where Mrs. Humphrey sat staring at the ancient boxy monitor in front of her. She really needed to update things around here, but she was the type of 72-year-old lady who would not be pushed outside of her comfort zone. Every time Candi would hint at the possibility of getting newer technology, Mrs. Humphrey would press her lips together and hum for a second before saying, "If it works, it doesn't need to be replaced."

Jen, Mrs. Humphrey's granddaughter and Candi's best friend, popped up from the bin of clothes she was sorting by the front desk. "You know, I could always pick you up whenever you don't have the car."

Candi waved her hand, moving a rack of clothes towards the front of the store. "I need the exercise. Besides, I never know. Sometimes it's there waiting for me, other times it's not." Candi shrugged. "Maggie gets weird hours."

Her Aunt Maggie worked at one of Camden's many local bars, the Yellow Bass. She needed all the hours she could get, so sometimes she would work double shifts.

Mrs. Humphrey stood, taking her spectacles off her nose and letting them hang beneath her chin. "Jen, I was hoping we could get another batch of purple headbands in today."

Jen groaned, and looked meaningfully at Candi. "I'm beginning to dream in crotchet."

Mrs. Humphrey had started a new line of hand-made trinkets and articles of clothing a few months ago, and recruited Jen's help. They had started small, at first little pins or barrettes for the hair, and then they went to headbands, then socks, now hats and scarves… Mrs. Humphrey even sold a few sweaters.

Candi had to admit, she made a lot of extra money, especially in the summers, when the tourists came swarming in. They'd buy anything that was labeled "hand-made."

Mrs. Humphrey picked up her mug of coffee and sipped as she glanced around her little shop. "All yours, Candice," she said. Jen followed her into the back room, where they sat around making their crocheted items while listening to classical music, which Jen said was only for those who wanted to fall asleep.

Candi put a few of the clothes away. She couldn't crochet. Or knit. Or do anything crafty like that. So, she managed the store on days when Mrs. Humphrey wanted to crochet all day with Jen. It was a better job than her other one, which was waiting tables at Hickory's.

Candi was just refolding some shirts on one of the shelves when the bell tinkled. She patted the shirt she had just folded, and turned to see who the customer was. She smiled in surprise when she saw it was her councilor, Mr. Jenkins. He smiled warmly back at her, lengthening his strides until he could shake hands with her. His grip was strong and comforting.

"Hello, Candi," he greeted her, looking around the shop, then to her name tag. "What happened to Hickory's…?"

Candi brushed it off with a wave of her hand. "Still working there. But, uh, we needed the extra income."

"I see." His brown eyes studied hers intently for a moment. "How are you, Candi?"

"Good. Good, fine." And she was fine. She remembered long talks with Mr. Jenkins, which normally ended with her nearly drowning him from all the tears she'd shed. But she was past all that—of course, the pain of losing her father hadn't softened much over the past two years, but she could cope now. Live.

Mr. Jenkins was the social worker who'd shown up at her door (well, Aunt Maggie's door) and helped her work through the deep, dark hole she had fallen in. Encouraged her to get a job. Take it easy, but stay busy as well. He'd comforted her, offered advice, and become a friend. He'd helped Candi move in with her aunt, and sell off her dad's things.

To be honest, all of that was just a blur to Candi. A painful, never ending blur.

The middle aged man now roamed the racks. "My wife was wanting one of those clips… The ones with the flowers?"

"Oh, right." Candi grabbed a woven basket full of the hand-made clips and rattled them. "In here."

While Mr. Jenkins carefully picked out which clip he would buy for his wife, Candi pulled up a stool and sat close by. "How's Willy?" she asked. Willy was one of Mr. Jenkin's four sons, and was also handicapped. He'd fallen out of a tree and broken his spine when he was nine. He was now fourteen.

"Willy's doing fine," Mr. Jenkins said, lowering his glasses so he could examine one of the clips closer. "We've decided to homeschool him next year."

"Oh." Candi was silent for a moment, then, "School didn't work out so well for him?"

Mr. Jenkins shook his head, then tossed one of the clips in the air, catching it and showing it to Candi. "I'll purchase this one, please."

Candi grinned. "Good choice." It had a beautiful pink rose glued on, with white ribbon sticking out from underneath the flower. She hopped off the stool and went behind the counter to ring it up. "Four fifty, please."

Mr. Jenkins fished for his wallet before taking out a five dollar bill. "Keep the change," he said with a small wink. "Take care of yourself."

He picked up the little brown bag Candi had placed the clip in, and left the store.

_Take care of yourself. _Those were always his closing remarks.

Jen's voice piped up from inside the back room. "Was that Mr. Hottie?"

"Shut up, Jen, he's twice your age," Candi said. "Besides, he's already married. Gonna have to cast your net elsewhere."

"Yeah, yeah. You know I'm joking."

Candi did. But only because they'd had this discussion about Mr. Jenkins several times. Candi wouldn't put it past Jenny to flirt with any guy who looked her way.

The day wore on, tourists came in and bought things they could have bought for much cheaper at Walmart, and Jen's complaints grew more frequent.

"I'm even paying you, sweetie."

"I know Gran, and that's great, but this is overkill. My finger is blistering!"

"Just get what you're working on done, and you can have a break."

"Can't I just take the rest of the day off?"

Candi wandered over to the windows, and glanced up at the sky. It was dark with clouds. "Looks like a storm's brewing," she muttered. She got off in an hour. Would the storm hold long enough for her to get home?

Her answer began appearing on the sidewalk. Drops of rain were beginning to descend. She turned and made her way to the back room, leaning against the doorframe. "Mrs. Humphrey," she said, "It's going to rain. I should probably head home. Could Jen take over the rest of my shift?"

Jen looked like she'd just been told she'd won the lottery. Mrs. Humphrey looked like she'd just been told she'd lost. She glanced at Jen, who grinned back innocently. Finally, Mrs. Humphrey sighed. "Fine. Travel safe, Candice. If the rain gets too bad, you can always come back and wait it out here."

"Thanks." She shot a small finger salute to Jen, spun on her heel, and walked out the door.

She'd only gone a few blocks when lightening flashed across the sky. She considered going back, but that would probably result in Jen being put back to work, so she pressed on. It was just a sprinkle for now.

Just as she rode out of town, the torrential downpour began.

* * *

He found him in the woods, kneeling down and letting the damp leaves soak up his pants. He was waiting for him.

Dean didn't make a sound as he approached Cain. Cain didn't move, but when Dean was only feet away, he spoke. "This is where Colette and I lived," he said.

Dean glanced over at the cabin that was rotting away several yards away. "Not much left, is there?" he said. His voice was gritty, low. He knew he was a menace.

Dean stopped in his tracks, looking down at the back of the demon who had given him the mark.

Cain continued, ignoring Dean's comment. "I was a monster. Killing without a thought, bathing in the blood of my enemies… She helped me see what I'd become." He paused. "You can change, Dean. Remember that. If I could, you certainly can."

Dean finally spoke. "Yeah, well maybe in the end I don't wanna change." He hefted the first blade, which was clutched in his hand. He had given Cain a promise. He was intending to keep that promise tonight. The thought made his blood run hot with anticipation. He walked until he was standing in front of Cain, rather than behind him. He knelt down to become eye level with the demon.

Cain's eyes flickered over Dean's features for a moment, finally resting on Dean's jet black eyes. "Dean," he said quietly, "I'm sorry."

Dean nodded. "Me too."

Cain's eyes strayed to the blade, a faraway sadness in his eyes. Then he looked back up at Dean. "Do it quickly."

* * *

Sam could hardly see the sign welcoming him to Camden, Maine. The rain was blinding.

He took the exit, and found himself shooting down a highway that didn't actually look like it led to any kind of civilization. Course, he couldn't see much in front of him anyways. The highway looked deserted.

Finally, he decided to pull over and wait for the storm to pass. While waiting, he turned on Dean's favorite mix and let the familiar tunes play softly in the background. Dean a demon. It seemed impossible.

Dean couldn't possibly be Dean anymore.

Sam shook himself. What was he saying? No matter what, Dean Winchester was his big brother. He'd always been there for him, looking out for his little brother. Sam wasn't going to let him down.

His phone rang, and he fished it out of his pocket, heart leaping in a spurt of hope when he saw who the caller was. He answered. "Hey, what's up?"

Castiel's voice sounded from the other end. "Sam, I think I might have a lead on Dean."

Sam straightened in his seat. "Okay, tell me about it."

"You're not going to like it."

"Cas. Just tell me."

There was a moment of silence, then Castiel spoke. "Cain's dead."

Sam took a moment to process this. "But… the only thing powerful enough to kill Cain is…"

"Dean. Yes. Cain was killed in Springfield, Illinois. I'm heading over there now."

"How'd you know about it?"

"I have some angels keeping a lookout on things. They've been keeping tabs on Cain. They found him dead this morning."

Sam nodded, even though he knew Castiel couldn't see him. "Cas… you might not find anything over there. Dean would be long gone."

"Perhaps," Castiel answered. "But I can still check. See if there were any witnesses, clues that Dean could have left behind."

Sam frowned. "You think Dean would intentionally leave clues laying around?"

Castiel was silent for a moment. "I don't know," he said finally. "I just… never mind. I'm three hours away. I'll call if I find anything."

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Cas."

There was a beep as Castiel hung up. Sam snapped his phone shut and leaned his head back against the seat. The rain was starting to let up. He could actually see now. He was on a hill, and from here, he could see the town, along with the bay where white sails drifted in the grey water.

Somewhere out there, that girl was probably living a normal, apple-pie life. She might even have a boyfriend. Sam didn't know.

All he knew was that she was the key to getting his brother back.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks again to all those who have reviewed/followed/favorited this story! I think this chapter may help clear up where I am going with the plot here, because I know a few of you were a little confused as to what my intentions for this story were. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Four

Cupid was back. And boy, was he excited.

"This could actually work, Gabriel!" The cherub was nearly jumping up and down. Childish, but that's what being a love angel would do to you.

Gabriel was playing pool at a bar in Vegas. The lights were dim, music was loud, and Gabriel was racking up the cash. He moved to the other side of the table, took aim, and made his move. Easy shot. The ball bounced right in. He straightened, pleased, and faced Gabriel, taking a sip of his beer.

He had not yet gone to visit this mysterious girl. He figured he'd have a bit of fun before trekking off to Maine. There wasn't anything spectacular there, after all.

Cupid picked one of the balls off the table and tossed it a few times. "Dean Winchester doesn't have to be a threat. This could work. In fact, this could be a defining moment in my career. All the angels will respect me!"

"Have the angel-human duo found her yet?" Gabriel asked. Then he smirked and raised his eyebrows. "Assuming they're searching for a female and not…."

"Oh, it's a girl all right," Cupid assured him. "I could sense it. I only caught glimpses. It was strange, though…" Cupid took a swig of his own beer. "Almost… conflicting? Like there were two destinies trying to get the upper hand. I mean, people have more than one soul mate, and that could be it, but I couldn't help feeling like things were a bit muddled…."

"I guess we'll find out—perhaps she's got facial hair." Gabriel chuckled to himself, taking another shot.

Cupid suddenly didn't seem so confident. "No… No, I'm pretty sure what I told them was correct. Oh, and another thing…" He leaned forward, lowering his voice as much as he could while still being heard over the booming music. "She's in danger. I don't know how or why, but I clearly saw the shadow of death reaching for her. I was thinking maybe I should keep an eye on her."

"After you find her first," Gabriel reminded him.

"Oh, that won't be hard," Cupid said with a wave of his hand. "But I can't always be watching her… I've got other things to do."

"Let the kids worry about it," Gabriel said, gauging his next shot. "You don't need to babysit some human."

"But that's the thing." Cupid suddenly looked anxious. "Like I said, this could be a big moment for me. I don't want it to go wrong."

Gabriel didn't say anything. The way Cupid was watching him gave him an idea of what was coming next. He sighed, straightened, and leaned against his pool stick. "Lemme guess. You want someone _else _to look after her if need be."

Cupid looked hopeful. "You'd really be doing me a favor, Gabriel…"

"I don't do favors." Gabriel twirled his pool stick in his hand, and turned back to the table. "Besides, they're probably on their way there this minute. She won't need any protection with those two around."

"They still need to get Dean," Cupid pointed out.

Gabriel sighed in frustration, but didn't let the smirk fade from his lips. He wasn't in the habit of letting people know when he was the least bit bothered by something. "She'll be fine. She can wait."

Cupid still didn't look convinced. "Well… if I ever _do _need you to look after her, could I count on you?"

"Psh. No."

Cupid was silent as Gabriel took the last and final shot, watching as the eight ball rolled into oblivion. He finally turned back to the cherub. Cupid was turning the puppy dog eyes on big time, along with an annoying pout. Gabriel sighed again, his smirk diminishing. Time to get serious. "Look. Babysitting some human girl is not my idea of a temporary job. But…" He took another swig of his beer, then set it back down, staring Cupid down. His puppy dog look did not even falter. "I suppose…. If you _really _needed me too… I could pop down in Maine once in a while."

Cupid's chubby face broke into the widest of grins. "Gabriel, you're the _best." _The bone crushing hug following his words was expected, Gabriel supposed, but why was it even necessary? He brushed himself off.

"Now if you excuse me, I've got a night of fun planned ahead of me."

Cupid punched Gabriel in the shoulder, nearly sending him flying. "I gotcha. Thanks, Gabriel."

Once Cupid had left, Gabriel hung around the bar for a few minutes before making up his mind. Camden, Maine had better watch out.

The Trickster was on his way.

* * *

Castiel had hoped for some kind of sign, some evidence that Dean had been around. Unfortunately, that would prove to be more difficult than he'd thought.

"You just found him here, in this forest," Castiel repeated, looking back at the angel standing next to him.

Daniel nodded, motioning to the ground, covered in dead leaves. "I'm afraid there's not much else to tell you."

Castiel resisted the urge to groan in frustration, or cast his eyes to the sky. There had to be some evidence lying around pointing to Dean's whereabouts. There just had to be. "So there were no witnesses?"

Daniel raised his eyebrows. "The trees…?"

Daniel was right. There wasn't going to be anyone around this densely forested area. Castiel nodded at him. "Thank you, Daniel." His eyes skimmed the ground. "Could I… could I have a moment?" Daniel nodded, resting a comforting hand on Castiel's shoulder for a moment before disappearing. That was something Castiel missed. His wings. His ability to be anywhere he wanted in a fraction of a second.

Now that he was alone, Castiel slowly walked around the area, eyes searching for any little clue. Several yards away was a rotting cabin that looked like it was at least a century old. He stared at it, wondering if that's where Cain had been hiding away until Dean came to kill him.

The setting sun's rays were barely poking through the trees as Castiel approached the little cabin. Cautiously, he stepped through the already open door.

There wasn't much inside—a straw mattress with an old, frayed quilt folded on top in one corner, and a fire place that had cobwebs in it on the other side of the room. Castiel surveyed the room some more, stepping into the light the window let in. Dust particles floated in the air around him. Why would Cain pick such a dump?

Castiel was about to turn to leave, when something glinted in the corner of his eye. He turned to face the mattress. Yes, there was something small and shiny over there. He slowly approached the bed. A cold wind blew through the cabin, making Castiel shiver. He would never get used to the fluctuating temperatures. He never had to worry about that as a fully-equipped angel.

The object was partially hidden under the quilt, which explained why he hadn't seen it before. Reaching underneath, he felt cool metal, and the whisper of a chain. It was a locket. Castiel studied the golden metal, which had rusted over the years. Carefully, Castiel popped the locket. Inside, was the faint picture of a woman… and a man. Castiel peered closer. The man looked…. He looked like…

There was a violent gust of wind, and Castiel turned his body to shield himself from the cold. When he straightened, he found himself face-to-face with a woman. All he could take in were her eyes—sunken, sad. He blinked a few times, then glanced down at the photo before looking back up at her.

She was the same woman from the photo.

"That's mine." Her voice was ice-cold, defensive.

Castiel nodded, setting it carefully back on the bed, keeping his eyes on her. "Who… who are you?" he asked, although he could already guess the answer.

She looked offended by his question. She flickered, then disappeared. Castiel lunged forward, as if catching her mid-flight might stop her. "No, wait!" he cried. "Do you know Cain?"

"Why?" She was behind him now, sitting elegantly on the mattress. She had the locket clasped in her hands, but her sunken eyes were focused on Castiel.

Castiel answered her calmly. "I'd heard he was killed."

Her gaze finally flickered away, fixing on some obscure spot behind Castiel. "Yes."

Castiel sucked in a breath. "Did you see it?"

She didn't answer him. She didn't appear to have heard him.

"Please," Castiel pressed. "My friend…. He has Cain's mark now. I need to find him."

She stood. "You don't find those who have the mark unless they want to be found."

"I think I can help him," Castiel said, watching her carefully, fearing she would flicker away at any moment. "Please, I need you to tell me what you saw."

Again, she didn't answer. She moved slowly to the window and gazed out of it. The sun was now low enough that hardly any light found its way inside the cabin.

Castiel tried again, using a different tactic. "I know who you are," he said, glancing at the locket she'd left on the bed. "You're Colette. Cain's wife."

She stiffened, and Castiel knew he was right.

"You cared about Cain," he continued. "You… loved him." He swallowed. "Well, Dean has people who care about him, too. People who want to help him. Please."

The silence stretched on. Just when Castiel thought she would continue to ignore him, she turned to face him. "I will tell you what I saw," she said, "If you promise me something first."

Castiel nodded. "What is it?"

Her gaze wandered sadly over to the locket on the mattress. "Take that to my grave. It is only a mile from here. Burn it with my bones."

Castiel watched her carefully. She looked back at him.

"I'm tired of being trapped in this world. I want to move on. Maybe I'll find him… Cain. We can be together."

Castiel didn't reply immediately. He knew it would be very unlikely that Cain would find a place in Heaven. But Colette was right about one thing—it was time for her to move on. No spirit should have to be stuck down here.

He picked up the locket and encased it in his hand protectively. "I will."

The smallest of smiles touched Colette's lips. "Cain was here because this was our home, a long time ago. He knew Dean was coming for him. He wanted to die here." She folded her hands in front of her. "Dean came. He killed Cain. Then… then another demon appeared."

"Crowley," Castiel assumed out loud.

Colette nodded. "It sounded like they were heading for Lawrence, Kansas."

Castiel frowned. "Why would they go there?"

Colette shook her head. "I do not know. The other demon didn't seem to like the idea, but Dean was adamant."

Castiel clutched the locket in his hand tighter. "Anything else?"

"That's all I know."

He nodded. "Thank you."

She focused her gaze completely on him. "Do not forget your promise."

The metal in his hands was now warm from holding it. "I won't," he said quietly.

* * *

The car was there when she got back.

Candi stepped through the door, drenched. The rain was still pounding on the windows. Aunt Maggie was most likely asleep after a long night of bar tending.

Candi went into her room and peeled off her wet clothes, and wrapped them up in a towel. She pawed at the pile of clothes at the foot of her bed for something dry and preferably clean. She settled on crawling into a hoodie and sweats.

Her room was more of a closet than anything. Her aunt's house didn't have any extra rooms for her to stay in, so they had made up a room for her in what was meant to be more of a storage closet. The ceiling sloped downward so she could only stand in one side of the room, but the floor was carpeted and the light bulb above her bed served well. She couldn't complain. It was the best her aunt could do for her.

After making a cup of warm milk, she crawled on top of her bed and pulled her laptop onto her lap, flipping it open. She turned on Vanessa Carlton music as she browsed Facebook, sipping at the milk and letting it banish every last thought of cold. She hummed along to "Heroes and Thieves," glancing at the time. She would have been getting off right about now. Thunder boomed ahead, and she was glad she left the boutique when she had.

Her phone began playing the Pirates of the Caribbean theme song, and she had to untangle herself from her bed and search through her purse for it. She found it, and glanced at the caller ID. It was Sue, Hickory's manager for the night. She quickly flipped it open, pressing it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Honey, I know you've told us to squeeze you in for any extra hours, so I called you. Helen called in sick. Could you come in in like twenty minutes?"

Candi stifled a groan. Yes, she had asked for extra hours, because they needed the extra income, but that didn't mean she enjoyed it. "Uh, yeah, sure. I'll be there."

"Wonderful. Bye-bye now."

Candi hung up, and flopped back onto her bed. She had twenty minutes to doll herself up. Those tips didn't just come in for good service.

A quarter of an hour later, Candi's dark hair had been brushed out and dried. She though she ought to straighten out some of the waves, but figured a messy bun would do. She didn't like a lot of makeup, but applied some brown eyeliner and mascara. She finished off with some lip gloss—cotton candy flavored. She considered herself in the mirror, and decided she would just have to do.

She ran outside, avoiding the puddles, and jumped into the old light blue Saturn. Upon starting it, she hissed out a frustrated sigh. The gas light was on. She ran back into the house, and opened the top cupboard in the kitchen that held their secret stash of money reserved for things like gas or emergencies. There was never much in there, but when Candi took down the tin, she couldn't help noticing how incredibly light it felt.

When she opened the lid, she saw why.

There was a total of four dollars and seventy-two cents inside.

Candi's heart sank. She would just have to put the money she made tonight into filling up the tank, at least part-way. Again, her personal savings weren't going to amount to much tonight.

When she'd moved in with her aunt, who was about to lose the house because she could barely pay rent, she'd offered to work and pay half of the rent as payment for letting her aunt stay. Now, her aunt relied heavily on her in order to pay the bills, and it took up most of the money Candi made.

Candi ran back outside and backed the car out. She would have a talk with her aunt about the missing money. She had a sneaking suspicion for where it had gone, but desperately hoped she was wrong.

At three thirty in the afternoon, Hickory's was completely dead. But there were the few regulars who would come in and order a shake and fries.

Once six o'clock rolled around, however, things sped up. It was a Friday night, and the middle of June, so the tourists were pouring in. It had apparently stopped raining, because no one who came in was the least bit wet or shaking out umbrellas.

"Candi!" Candi turned, plates of food poised on her arms. Hal, with a Mohawk and nose piercing, nodded his head towards the back of the restaurant. "I just seated another customer. Take his order, will you?"

She nodded, rushing off to deliver the food to a grumpy old couple who had taken ages to decide on what to eat and asked too many questions about the ingredients. After delivering the food, and assuring the elderly woman that no, there was no pepper in the dish, she made her way to the back, drawing out her notepad.

The man sitting alone in his booth was busy staring at a computer, and jotting some things in a notebook.

"Hello, sir," she said, causing him to pause and look up.

But she had trailed off, her introduction and offer for drinks fading from her lips. There were names on that notebook.

And one of them was hers.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm going to post a little more randomly from now on, because Season 10 is coming up fast and I want to have a good chunk of this posted before then. Also, school will make things a little more sporadic. Enjoy, and thanks again for those of you who continue to support me by reviewing/favoriting/following :)**

* * *

Chapter Five

Candice Lockwood.

That was her name. 23. Five foot five. Orphan. Poor as dirt. Also, her taste in music was on the other side of the spectrum from Dean's.

Gabriel was having a hard time figuring out what was so special about this girl. She was pretty enough. She had long dark hair that was normally in a single braid down her back, and blue eyes that weren't anything spectacular. They were actually more of a grey color. And she had freckles. They made her look ten years younger.

Okay, so maybe he was exaggerating on that last bit.

But honestly, not really Dean's type. Like… Vanessa Carlton? Really?

Also, she was as thin as a rail. There were barely any curves to her at all.

He just didn't expect her to be so… young. Dean would definitely be robbing the cradle on this one.

It had been easy enough for Gabriel to find her. It only took a few minutes to sweep the town until he finally found her riding her bike through the rain.

He stood at the one side of her closet—er, room—that he could stand in and watched. Yep. Normal girl. Normal world. There wasn't even anything spectacular about her parent's deaths. Mom passed away from cancer when she was five. Dad drowned nearly two years ago. Sad, but it happens.

He just really couldn't see this girl making any kind of difference in Dean's life.

But hey, who knew?

The girl lounging on the bed in front of him started when her phone went off.

Pirates of the Caribbean.

Wow.

Definitely not Dean material. But… Gabriel had to give her a few bonus points. He was a fan.

She seemed to wilt as she listened to whoever was on the phone, but kept her voice bright and cheery. She hung up, flopped on the bed and laid there for a few moments, then left the room, almost brushing past him.

He could go spy on her.

…Or he could snoop through her room.

He chose the latter.

While Candice (or, Candi, as she seemed to go by) got ready in the single bathroom, Gabriel toured all eight by six feet. Cramped was an understatement. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic.

The only furniture in the room was the twin sized bed, and a small dresser right next to it, which undoubtedly held half of her clothes. The other half took up the rest of the small floor space at the foot of her bed. On top of the dresser was a lamp, and a few books. There were also a few pictures. One was of Candi, age four, with her entire family. Her mother was blonde, and definitely where she got the freckles. Her father looked like the typical fisherman—dark hair, a well-groomed beard, deep-set, kind eyes, and an incredibly bright smile. She had a picture of her and her dad on a boat—it looked about three years old. Her dad now had peppered hair. And finally, a graduation picture.

He tried to look for a diary, because it was always fun to read the yearnings of a teenage heart, but came up with nothing. The books were fictional—Phantom of the Opera, Hunger Games, and If I Stay. He picked up If I Stay. Watermarks made the book's pages bloated and wrinkled. Gabriel soon realized they were tear marks. After reading what the book was about, he could understand why this would have ripped Candice from the inside out. It was about a girl whose entire family had died in a tragic car accident.

Gabriel put it back, wiping his hand on his shirt as if to wipe off the emotions that book was leaking from its pages.

Really, there wasn't much to learn from Candi's room. She had a stuffed bunny on the floor, an unmade bed… and on that bed was her laptop.

Bingo.

He opened the laptop, and easily hacked into it. The desktop background was obviously one that came with the computer. It was a lighthouse overlooking the sea. He went straight to her pictures. Maybe there would be some nudes.

Just then, Candi rushed in to grab her purse. Gabriel paid her no mind as he scrolled past the photos. She didn't even notice her laptop was still open, and rushed back out the door.

He heard the car start just as he was reaching the end of her pictures. There weren't many photos on her computer—more of her and her dad, and the fish they'd caught, and several of her with some dirty blonde chick. Must be a friend. It wasn't until he reached the end that he found a boy entering the scene. He had sandy hair and a grin that made his eyes nearly crinkle closed. He was good-looking otherwise. Must be an ex. He looked at the date of the photo—it was four years old. Yep. Long gone ex.

He finally switched to documents, aware of the front door opening again and Candi rushing into the kitchen. He heard the scrape of a stool. There was a moment of long silence, then she exited the house again. This time, she drove away.

Most of the documents were old high school assignments. Some were ridiculously written stories by her and her friend. But there were others that were labeled "Journal." So there they were. She hadn't written in an actual journal, or if she did, they either no longer existed or were hidden somewhere. He clicked on the most recent one, which was dated April 4th, 2014. He scanned it. She talked about taking another job at a shop her friend's grandma ran. She talked about wanting to save up enough money for college so she could start a life of her own. Then she expressed some bitterness, because she realized that probably wouldn't happen any time soon. It was a dream, though.

Gabriel felt a twinge of pity for the girl, but he shoved it off. Boo hoo. At least she had her aunt. At least she had her friend. She had two jobs. Her life really didn't suck that badly.

And she seemed to realize that, which made Gabriel not hate her.

He closed the documents, and briefly went over her browsing history. Some of it was social media. She had also been looking at prices for online classes. Gabriel gave a low chuckle. This girl really wanted to get an education. In biology, it looked like.

He finally closed the laptop. He closed his eyes, and laid back on the pillows, listening to the silence. It was broken by someone moving about the house and turning on the TV. Gabriel opened his eyes.

And became deathly still when he saw what was on the ceiling.

* * *

Sam saw the waitress's nametag, and the confusion on her face. He instantly covered up the notebook with his arms, but realized it was too late. "Uh… hi," he said with what he hoped wasn't an awkward smile.

She was watching him warily. "What are all those names for?"

Sam cleared his throat. "I'm looking for someone." He quickly closed his laptop. He had been Facebook stalking one of the suspects, and he didn't want Candi to see and be even more creeped out.

"Oh." Her thin brows refused to relax. "So… I noticed my name was on there."

Sam ran a hand through his hair, huffing out a laugh. "Was it?" He uncovered the notebook to take a peek. "…Candice Lockwood?"

She nodded. "I have a feeling that's not just coincidence. Do I know you?"

"Um, no… no. Well, actually… I'm writing a… a story."

"A story."

Sam nodded, not sure where he was going with this. "An article about… this town. It seems to get a lot of tourists." He set a hand on the top of his laptop. "I hear the population here triples its size over the summer. I was going through a list of names my boss gave me so I could interview them. Your name happened to be on the list."

"Oh." Candice—or, Candi, as her nametag read,- didn't seem to be buying it. It was time to change the subject. He glanced at her notepad, still poised for taking orders.

"Could I have a beer?"

She pressed her lips together, clicking her pen and making a note on the pad. "Be right back."

Sam watched her go, desperately hoping she didn't go to management or something. He quickly turned his laptop back on, and closed the Facebook page. That woman was middle aged and married anyways. Her name was Cassandra. He glanced at his list. In all, there were only 27 females living in this town whose name started with a "C" followed by an "A." He had gone through and Facebook stalked sixteen of them already. Seven of the sixteen didn't even have a Facebook, which meant they were either too old or too young. He didn't remember looking up Candice Lockwood's Facebook.

But if Candice was that waitress… She fit the description. She only looked like she was fresh out of high school, but she had the dark hair. The name. She fit better than anyone else he had researched so far.

…Could she be the one?

She came back shortly. Without management. Or the police. Both good things. She set his beer in front of him. "Ready to order?"

"Uh, yeah. Chicken sandwich, please."

She jotted it down. "Anything else?"

"Nope, that should do it." He found himself watching her closely. She looked kind of young for Dean. Was she even legal? He could always ask how old she was, but that would be hitting the creeper limit for the night.

She leaned in front of him to grab his menu. "Who's your publisher?" she suddenly asked, standing up straight.

Sam was thrown for a moment, but he recovered. "Uh, Tourist Central. Yep." He had totally made the name up.

She nodded, as if she knew what he was talking about. "And why did all those names start with C?"

Now he was really screwed. The silence stretched on as she waited for his answer. "I don't know," he finally said.

"Just following your orders?"

Sam forced out a small laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, exactly that."

She finally gave him a smile. It made her eyes light up. "I'll be back."

Sam thanked her, and looked back at his laptop. He looked around, making sure no one was around before he pulled Facebook up again and searched for "Candice Lockwood." He couldn't find her. He sat back a moment, then deleted the "C" and "E" at the end of her first name. He was now searching for Candi Lockwood.

She was the second on the list. Her profile picture was of her and a dirty blonde taking a selfie. He clicked on her page, and scanned it. She didn't post often. The last post she made was a movie quote, apparently. It wasn't one he'd seen. Her friends seemed to like it, though.

Sam couldn't help himself. He looked through pictures, scrolled down her wall, browsed her history. She posted less and less the farther down he went, which confused him at first, until he saw the explosion of posts from other people.

She'd lost her father.

Sam quickly pulled up another tab and searched for David Lockwood's death. He pulled up an article. It was published October 7, 2012. He scanned it, then sat back.

Dave had drowned.

And Candi had seen the whole thing.

* * *

Dean was adjusting.

Adapting.

Crowley watched as Dean walked into an entire bar full of demons. And he slaughtered them. Every. Single. One.

He was sitting with him at the front counter now, watching as he downed a beer. It wasn't going to do much to him. Beer was about as intoxicating as water when you were a demon. "Feel good?" Crowley inquired.

Dean faced him, his eyes still black from the bloodlust. "I won't stop until every one of those monsters are dead. And then…" He smiled. It sent chills up Crowley's spine. "I'll kill you."

That wasn't what Crowley was expecting to hear. Nevertheless, he kept his cool. "Hmm. Well, the way I see it, we're a team now, Dean."

Dean shook his head. "I work solo."

"Okay, so you can be your own man whenever you want. But you and I… we have something special."

"Don't make me want to off you any sooner, Crowley."

So, Dean was going through his rebellious stage. That was fine. Let him blow off some steam. Crowley only chuckled in response. "Have another beer."

Dean reached for the bottle Crowley offered him. The dried blood on his hands cracked and flaked. "I've gotta say, Dean…" Crowley said, leaning forward. "What made you want to come to Lawrence?"

Dean gestured to the bodies around him. "I could sense they were here. This was my hometown. I wanted those rats gone."

Crowley sat back, impressed. Dean could sense demons from 350-some miles away? Not bad…

Or maybe it was because Dean had a special connection to Lawrence. That could make him more sensitive to the area.

Dean finished off his second beer, tossing the bottle behind him. There was a satisfying smash as it hit the wall.

Crowley spoke again. "So… what next?"

Dean faced him again. He was terrifying. "I don't have a plan, Crowley. I'm only killing demons. There's nothing wrong with that." He stood, rapping the surface of the counter with his knuckles. "See ya in Hell."

"Wait, Dean—"

Dean was gone.

"Bugger…" Crowley fished out a handkerchief, wiping a few specs of blood off his face. He glanced around at the massacre at his feet.

It wasn't the first time, but Crowley was beginning to question what he was doing hanging around with the most powerful demon in the world.

If things got out of hand, he had no idea how to stop Dean from killing him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Here we go- Chapter Six! Enjoy :)**

* * *

Chapter Six

"Cas, I found her."

Castiel nearly dropped the phone as he tried to make a right-hand turn. Sam kept talking.

"Her name is Candice Lockwood, but she goes by Candi. Honestly…. I can't really see her taming the big bad wolf that is now Dean Winchester."

"Looks can be deceiving, Sam."

"Yeah, but… she's only 23."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Castiel spotted his destination, and pulled into the parking lot. The presence of several police cars and ambulances confirmed he was in the right place.

"It's… just… young… never mind."

Castiel frowned. "Sam, I'm thousands of years old. You are all children."

There was silence on the other end, and Castiel could almost guarantee what kind of face Sam was making. "Okay, yeah," he finally said. "So what about you? Find anything?"

Castiel saw one of the cops looking suspiciously at him, and start making his way over. "I'm in Lawrence. It appears Dean was on a killing spree. I've got to go. I'll call you back." Before he could let Sam make a reply, he hung up, exiting his car to meet the officer.

"Who are you?" the cop demanded. Castiel glanced at the shiny badge he wore on his uniform. Sheriff.

"I'm… uh… the feds sent me." Castiel clumsily pulled his fake badge out of his pocket, flipping it open.

The sheriff peered at the badge for a moment before nodding and extending his hand. "Sheriff McDuff. Come on in. But I've got to warn you… it's not a pretty scene."

Castiel nodded and followed the sheriff into the bar.

The moment the door opened, he was hit with the sickening metallic scent of blood. There were bodies sprawled grotesquely all over the floor, and slumped against booths.

They were all demons, Castiel knew that for a fact. So at least Dean wasn't mindlessly killing innocent people.

"Looks like we have some kind of terrorist group at work here," Sheriff McDuff said, surveying the gruesome scene in front of them.

"Was there any footage?" Castiel asked, glancing up at the camera in the corner of the ceiling.

"Not much. It looked like a brawl started up, and then the camera went nuts. When it finally started working properly again…" He shook his head. "We couldn't actually see anything."

Castiel cocked his head to the side. "Why not?"

"Blood was spattered all over the lens."

Castiel nodded, looking around at the brutally murdered demons. He could tell by the wounds that this was definitely Dean's work. The first blade always left quite the mess.

"We'll let forensics finish up, then pack up the bodies. Feel free to look around." Sheriff McDuff tipped his head at Castiel, then left the scene.

Castiel carefully stepped around the bodies and avoided stepping in the puddles of blood that were still sticky. He wasn't sure what he was looking for. Some hint as to where Dean had gone would be nice, but he knew he wouldn't be so lucky as to have a ghost tell him again.

There were twenty-one bodies in all. Castiel wondered what Dean's purpose had been in coming here and killing them all.

Castiel paused his search, finding he was suddenly unable to stand the stench. He had never once in his life been queasy, so he doubted that was why he was suddenly feeling sick. He fought it off, trying to focus on looking for clues. His stomach lurched. He began to shake.

The doors banged open as Castiel rushed outside and around the back. Alone, he collapsed on the ground, trying to prop himself up on his hands and knees. A sudden coughing fit overtook him, racking his body, setting fire to his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

In a violent heave, he spat out a spray of blood.

The sudden cough attack faded away.

When it was over, he wiped his mouth, then wiped the blood on his hand on the grass. He was still quivering, but the wave of nausea was lessening. He could feel his grace. It was spurting like a car running on the last of its gas.

With a prick of fear, Castiel realized he might not live long enough to find Dean.

* * *

Candi arrived home at 10:15, worn out and wanting nothing more than a hot bath before bed.

Aunt Maggie was in the kitchen, sorting out bills. The circles under her eyes looked darker tonight. She looked up when Candi came in. "Hey, honey. How was work?"

"The usual." She paused. Well, except for that one guy who had her name in his notebook. That was weird. But in the end, she figured it was no big deal. Maybe he _was_ just writing something about Camden.

She gave her aunt a hug. She hated to bring this up now, but she really wanted to go to bed, and they had to get this discussion over with. She cleared her throat. "I put half a tank of gas in the car."

"Oh! Sweetheart, I'm so sorry- I was going to do that. I didn't think you had work tonight."

"I got called in."

"Well, I'll pay you back."

Maggie always said that. It hardly ever happened though, because she simply didn't have the money. It didn't make Candi upset. She understood.

Candi sat down at the table next to her aunt, trying to figure out how to best start the conversation they needed to have about the empty money tin. Instead, she said, "You have the night off?"

Maggie nodded. "I needed a break."

They were silent for a while, Maggie still sorting through bills, Candi examining an old grape juice stain on the table. The clock switched from 10:17 to 10:18.

Finally, Candi stood. "I'm going to take a shower. Need the bathroom?"

Maggie shook her head. "All yours."

They'd have their talk in the morning.

After Candi's hot shower, she ducked into her room, throwing her uniform on the ground. Someday she'd put her clothes away. She put what was left of her tips in a jar. She'd used most of it to pay for the gas.

She collapsed on the bed, closing her eyes and feeling her damp hair slowly soak the pillows. Her dad used to wonder if she ever got cold going to bed with her hair wet. He would gather it up in his hands and twirl it, giving her a kiss on the forehead before saying goodnight.

She could remember his voice as he said it, the way he glanced behind him at her before backing out of the room and closing the door. They had been a team. Just him and her. Against the world.

Now that he was gone, Candi couldn't help feeling that the world was trying to suffocate her. It closed around on all sides, making her feel hopeless.

Because without her dad, she wasn't strong enough to push through.

Something sharp and terrifying flitted inside Candi's middle, but it was gone as soon as it came. Sometimes that happened when she thought of her dad. She wondered if it was just the echoes of that first pain of realizing she'd lost the one person she had left reverberating through her system.

Candi willed herself not to think about her dad. She didn't feel like crying herself to sleep tonight. She needed a good night's rest. Tomorrow she'd be able to sleep in, but then she was working the lunch shift at the Hickory.

Her phone vibrated, and Candi reached for it. Jen had texted. "You work too hard," it read. Candi chuckled to herself, and considered what to text back, when her phone vibrated again. "When are you free? You. Me. Girl date."

A girl date with Jen was long overdue. She quickly texted back. "Tomorrow. I get off at three."

She set her phone down, and curled up under her covers. There was the faint scent of a jolly rancher on her pillow. She mildly wondered where it'd come from before she fell asleep.

* * *

She walked out of the restaurant at exactly 3:04. Sam watched her make her way to her car and get in. He waited until she pulled out of the parking lot before he started the Impala and took off after her.

They needed to talk.

She led them to one of the many docks jutting into the harbor. Someone was waiting for her. The dirty blonde gave Candi a hug, Candi locked her car, and they began to stroll along the sidewalk. Sam went farther down the road, parked, and followed on foot, always keeping his distance.

Tourists crushed in around him, some of them wearing far less than needed. It looked like Candi was on a window shopping spree with her friend. She seemed happy. Content with life.

There had to be something wrong.

Upon doing more research, he'd learned that Candi's grandfather had also drowned, along with her grandfather's sister. So, there was something fishy going on with her family. And it included both the males and the females.

He'd also read up more on Candi's story. She had seen her father drown. But that wasn't all. She had claimed that something had attacked him. Pulled him under. So ensued a hunt for any sharks or giant fish by the locals, but nothing turned up but Dave's body, full and intact, hours later.

Sam knew that Candi knew more about what had happened that day. And he needed her to tell him.

He wasn't about to lose Dean's last hope to some underwater monster. Sam dodged inside a small shop when Candi and her friend turned around, trying to decide where to go next. After he was certain they wouldn't see him, he stepped back out.

Maybe he was overreacting. But he and Dean had seen this type of thing countless times. There's a pattern. A mysterious death. There had to be something unnatural going on.

Or, her family had bad luck with water, and Dave really had just drowned or was pulled down by fishing line or something.

But it was better safe than sorry, especially with this precious cargo.

Sam's phone began ringing. He quickly pulled it out and inhaled sharply when he saw who was calling. About time. Sam was beginning to worry Cas had fallen off the face of the earth. He'd tried multiple times to call him since last night, but to no avail.

He answered. "Cas, where the hell have you been?"

"Sorry, I…" He was cut off by a fit of coughing.

Sam pressed his phone closer to his ear. "Cas?" He could only listen as Castiel rasped, trying to catch his breath.

"Sam," he finally gasped, "My grace. I fear I don't have long."

Panic flickered inside of Sam. No. No, Cas couldn't check out yet. They still had to find Dean. "Cas," Sam said firmly, "You need to go to Metatron. You need to see if there's a way to fix this."

"No, Sam. I will not make deals with him."

Sam gritted his teeth, completely forgetting that he needed to follow Candi. "Cas, listen to me. You're no help to Dean dead."

There was silence on the other side of the line. "I'd have to stop looking for Dean."

"Know what? I'll take over from here. You do what you have to do, man. We don't want to lose you."

Another pause. "We?"

Sam realized his mistake. But then again—maybe it wasn't. "Yes. Me… and Dean. No matter how bad Dean is now, we'll fix him. And there would be hell to pay if he learned you had died while he was out."

There was another long silence. Then, "I'll go to Metatron."

Sam nodded, even though he knew Castiel couldn't see him. "Take care of yourself, Cas."

"You too, Sam. Oh, and Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I couldn't find anything on Dean. He had been in Lawrence, Kansas. He killed an entire bar-full of demons."

"Huh." Sam frowned. "I guess as long as he hasn't killed any humans yet. But why in Lawrence?"

"I don't know."

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds. Sam thought he saw a glimpse of Candi and her friend somewhere in the crowd up ahead. They were making their way back.

"Alright, Cas, I've got to go. Call if you need anything."

"I will."

Sam hung up, and quickly picked up a brochure from a rack, pretending to look through it. When she passed by, he was going to ask her a few questions.

And then he'd hit the road.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I'd like to extend a special thank you to suburbantimewaster for reviewing every single chapter and for her continued support. You guys should check her profile and stories out! And, as always, thank you to those who have stuck around from the beginning, and to those who have just joined. You are all fantastic. Enjoy, and drop a review to let me know what you thought! :)**

* * *

Chapter Seven

It took an enormous amount of energy for Castiel to get to Heaven. They still could only use the portal that Metatron had constructed, so it was a nuisance for all of the angels to get back home. But home most of them had ended up, where even now they tried to come up with a solution to unblocking the way to Heaven.

Castiel knew he should help them. But finding and curing Dean came first. Castiel realized that now. And the other angels knew it too. Metatron had said it best himself—it was all about Dean, when it came to Castiel. Everything he did—it was for Dean. And the angels respected that. Most of them, anyways. Hannah was still upset that he wouldn't lead them, but they would find another leader. Or maybe they wouldn't and could learn how to live without one. They would find a way to fix things.

Castiel was escorted to Metatron's cell by an angel he didn't know.

Metatron was scratching away at the walls with a piece of chalk. He didn't even turn around when the angel had announced that he had a visitor. It wasn't until the other angel left that Metatron spoke.

"Had a feeling I'd be seeing you soon, Cas." He finished whatever he was writing with a flourish, and tossed the piece of chalk over his shoulder. Castiel noticed that there was writing all over the walls. Finally, he turned to face Castiel, giving him a toothy grin.

Something squirmed deep inside Castiel. It wasn't anger. He didn't even think it was hatred. No… it was disgust. He was disgusted by the former scribe of God.

Metatron grinned wider at Castiel's silence. "I take it you are at the end of your rope." He shook his head, mock concern replacing the annoying smile. "You've seen better days, my friend."

"I am not your friend." Castiel grasped the bars of the cell and glared inside it. "You _killed _my friend."

"But he's back, right? I've heard the rumors. You don't have to be mad at me at all, Castiel. He would have died eventually, and still ended up in the same stew." Metatron's grin was returning. Castiel wanted to throttle him.

"It doesn't matter now," Castiel said. "But… I want to help him. I need to help him."

"But your ticker's about gone."

"How can I restore my grace?"

Metatron stared at him for a moment, then burst out into laughter. He snorted a few times, covering his mouth. Castiel patiently waited. Metatron quit his giggling and gave Castiel a stern look. "Really, Castiel… you know better. Your grace was completely destroyed after I took it. It no longer exists."

Castiel was afraid of that answer. "There must be a way to recharge the grace I already have. Or get more."

Metatron was really enjoying himself now. "That is classified information."

"I'm not bargaining with you."

"Then enjoy the twilight of your life." Metatron fished for another piece of chalk from his pocket, and squatted down at his writing again. "Really, they couldn't even bring me some paper…" he muttered.

Castiel felt his grace flickering like a wilting flame inside him. He knew he wouldn't last to help Dean. He took a deep breath. "What do you want?" he finally asked.

Metatron stopped his writing. The silence stretched on. Then, he twisted to look at Castiel. "I want you to send a message."

Castiel tilted his head to the side. "What kind of message?"

Metatron stood back up. "I can reverse the spell. But I want to be let out of this cage. Now, the other angels won't trust me, Castiel. But you… they'll listen to you." His smile was smug. "Tell them I can fix things. Tell them to let me out. And then I will tell you how you can replenish your grace."

Castiel stared at Metatron for several moments before turning away. "No. I'll find another way."

"Good luck," Metatron said, and faced the wall again.

But Castiel didn't leave. He couldn't. He had to come up with another deal, another way. He didn't trust Metatron. It would be foolish to let him out. Finally, he turned back to Metatron.

"Tell us how to reverse the spell. If it works, we'll let you out, and you tell me how to replenish my grace. Do we have a deal?"

Metatron continued to scratch away at the wall. Castiel waited patiently. Metatron ran out of chalk. He brushed his hands on his pants, standing. He turned, looked Castiel straight in the eyes, and stuck his hand through the bars.

"Deal."

* * *

"Was that guy checking me out? _Pretty _sure that guy was checking me out." Jen pointed straight ahead, and Candi half-heartedly looked to where she was pointing.

"Jen, there are hundreds of guys in front of us. Describe him to me."

"Well, he's tall, has long, luscious locks…"

"He already sounds creepy."

"But it's the sexy kind of long."

"Not the greasy kind?"

"Not the greasy kind. Look, there he is again! No, don't look at him, we've got to act normal."

Candi still had no idea who Jen was talking about, but she was sure she'd find out once Jen said hello to him. She was busy trying to text her aunt back, telling her she'd get the car back home in time for her to drive it to work tonight.

She felt Jen leave her side. "Hey, you from around here?"

A very male, very sexy, voice answered. "Uh, no, I'm not. I actually… wanted to talk to your friend there."

Candi looked up in confusion.

First, she focused on the man. He was standing next to a stand of brochures, and she instantly recognized him as the strange customer with her name in his notebook. Next, she looked at Jen, who looked torn between jealousy and indignation.

"You again," she said with an awkward smile. "How's that article coming?"

"Wait… you _know _him?!" Jen blurted.

"I served him at Hickory's."

"Can I have your job?"

"Only if I can still get paid."

The man cleared his throat. "Actually, Candice, I need your help."

"It's Candi," she corrected him. "And sure, is it for your article?"

He nodded, pulling out his notebook. The one that had her name in it. "I need to ask you some questions. Is now a good time?"

Candi exchanged looks with Jen, and hesitated. The man pulled out his wallet. "Ice cream's on me."

Candi could see that Jen was completely on board with that, so she agreed. They ducked into the ice cream parlor across the street, and placed their orders.

Before long, Jen had her banana split, and Candi her mint chocolate chip ice cream cone.

"I'm Sam, by the way," the man said, reaching across the table to shake Candi's hand.

"I'm Jennifer! But call me Jen," Jen said with a wink as she grasped his hand.

"Okay, good to meet you, Jen."

Candi observed his face, and the kind smile he gave her friend. The guy wasn't creepy at all. And Jen was right—he definitely pulled off the long hair.

"So… let's begin. How long have you two lived in Camden?" He was leaning forward, fully attentive.

"All our lives," Jen said quickly. "We've been friends since kindergarten." She grinned at Candi, who smiled back, tugging at Jen's ponytail playfully.

Sam smiled, nodding. "Nice. Nice… so, have you been outside Camden at all? On vacations, maybe?"

One by one they answered Sam's questions. He listened to their every word. Jen was gaining more and more confidence, and soon her flirting was becoming almost unbearable. Candi had to kick her under the table on more than one occasion.

Things were going well, and Candi even allowed a few laughs. But then Sam began asking questions that splashed ice water on her fun, and she instantly became sober.

"What about your parents? Have they lived here all their lives?"

Jen answered the question on her end—no, they were originally from New York, and then she reached for Candi's hand under the table, squeezing it.

Candi cleared her throat. "Uh, yeah, mine have."

"And they still enjoy living here?"

She could feel Jen watching her, and silently giving her support. Candi's eyes searched the parlor, desperate to look anywhere but at Sam or Jen. "Actually… both of my parents are dead."

Sam instantly looked sorry for asking the question. "I'm sorry. How did you lose them?"

"I don't think…" Jen started, but Candi interrupted her.

"No, it's okay." She took a deep breath, and her eyes settled on the silver napkin dispenser. "My mom was a victim of cancer. She passed away when I was five. My dad drowned two years ago. Well, almost two years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that. You said your family were fishermen as far back as you know. Your dad knew the ocean well, then?"

She nodded, still staring intently at the napkin dispenser like it was a life line. "He was a strong swimmer. I don't know… how it happened…"

A heavy silence hovered over their booth. Candi couldn't take it any longer

"I'm sorry," she said, standing. "I'll be right back. Bathroom."

She left the two, trying to force her tears away. She should have been used to this by now. The bathroom door swung open, and she locked herself in the stall, putting the lid down on the toilet and sitting on it. _Deep breaths, Candi_, she told herself.

As long as she didn't let that first tear fall, she would be fine.

Sam felt bad about probing Candi, especially in such a public place and with her friend listening in. But in the end, that might have been for the best.

When Candi left for the restroom, Sam leaned forward, completely focusing on Jen. It was obvious how she felt about him. He could get answers from her. "That's a terrible thing to go through," he started.

Jen nodded. "I can't even imagine. She's definitely closed up since then. She used to be so bubbly, so happy…" She shrugged. "She seems to be doing fine now, but she's different. More… mellow. Mature, maybe?" She shrugged again.

Sam pressed his lips together. Time to fish for the answers he was looking for. "Was she there when he drowned?"

Jen glanced behind him to make sure Candi wasn't on her way back, and leaned forward so their faces were only a foot apart. "Yeah. It was really bad."

"Bad?"

She nodded. "I guess she went into shock or something. She kept screaming about something dragging her dad away and drowning him. We asked if it was a fish, a shark… she insisted it was something else." Jen lowered her voice to a whisper, and Sam had to lean closer to hear her. "She thought she saw human hands pulling him under." She sat back with a shudder.

Sam's fears were very nearly confirmed. Something had dragged Dave under and drowned him. And it wasn't some fish.

"What does she say about it now?" Sam asked.

"Well, that's the thing," Jen said, looking behind him once more. "She doesn't remember the drowning. Like I said… shock."

Sam frowned. "She doesn't remember seeing anything… strange?"

"She doesn't remember seeing her dad drown _at all, _let alone what did it. So, that's a relief I guess."

Sam nodded.

"So," Jen said with a flirtatious smile. "Got any more questions to ask? We could always take this discussion to the beach."

"Uh, actually…" Sam made a big show of checking his watch for the time. "Once Candi gets back, I'm afraid I'll have to wrap things up and hit the road. I've got other… appointments."

"Aw." Jen pouted. Thankfully, Candi returned, sparing him from having to come up with a response.

"Sorry, where were we?" Candi asked.

"You know what, I think I've got all the information I need. Thanks, girls." He stood, and Jen stood with him. Candi remained seated, watching him.

"Good luck on that article," she finally said.

He nodded at her. "Thank you." He hesitated, then reached out and patted her on the back. "Take care, Candi."

He knew Jen was wanting a similar farewell, but instead he nodded at her, and left the ice cream parlor. He had to find Dean, and quickly. Who knew what could happen to Candi while he was gone? He hoped to God that the thing that had taken her father wasn't after her too.

* * *

So, the Sam had found the Candi.

And the Sam had to make the Candi sad.

Bad Sam.

Gabriel strolled along behind Candi and Jen as they continued their evening together. Jen wanted to go to a clothes store and try on a bunch of outfits, but Candi didn't seem up to joining her friend. Instead, she sat outside the dressing room, giving opinions on the different outfits Jen came out to display. Gabriel had a sneaking suspicion that Jen knew that was what Candi needed—some alone time to collect her thoughts and emotions.

An hour and $112.77 later, they decided to order a pizza and devour it while sitting at the beach.

The more Gabriel watched Candi, the more curious he became. He thought back to what was on her ceiling.

It was a sigil, and one he recognized. Its purpose was to hamper memories. Or, as he suspected in this case, only one memory.

It was written in a substance that Gabriel knew humans couldn't see. So then who put it there? And why? From listening in on Sam's questioning session, Gabriel realized it was there to keep Candi from remembering her father's death. Had what she'd seen really been so bad?

Yep. Gabriel's curiosity was certainly peaked. He would take the job. The… guardian angel-type job. Cupid had better pay him handsomely for this. He owed him.

After making sure Candi was alright, Jen began to ramble about how hot Sam was. And Gabriel… Gabriel just couldn't listen to such nonsense.

So, he decided to browse the town. After all, he would be sticking around for a while. Who knew when they'd find Dean, or when Sam would be back? Besides, Gabriel had nothing better to do. Maybe he could mess with a few saps while he was at it.

But he needed a cover. He needed to approach Candi at some point, speak with her. But as whom?

Gabriel scanned the crowds of people on the beach, then his eyes wandered to the lighthouse that was perched on the cliffs in the distance. He smirked.

Time to suit up, and become the light and the way.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: A special thank you to guest reviewer Cindy for her super sweet review! Thank you Cindy :) Also, thanks to suburbantimewaster for continuing to review. And thank you to all who are reading this and have favorited/followed this story. You guys rock! Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Eight

Crowley was always babbling in his ear. It was getting annoying. At some point in the near future, he _would _kill him.

Right now Crowley was trying to convince him that calling an angel was a bad idea.

But Dean had made up his mind. He knew Sam was looking for him. He needed to see if they had requested the help of angels.

Also… last Dean knew, Castiel's stolen grace was killing him. Even though he kept telling himself he didn't care at this point whether Cas was dead or not, he knew that he really did care. More than he should.

Besides, he needed to know what happened to Metatron.

"Dean, the angel will tell everyone you were here." Crowley insisted.

"I'll just kill it."

"And then they'll _definitely _know you were here."

"Doesn't matter. I'll be long gone before anything happens."

"I don't even know if a demon _can _call an angel."

Dean smiled at that. "Well, I'm no ordinary demon."

That shut Crowley up.

Dean paced around where he remembered knocking Sam out before leaving to take on Metatron alone. He had felt slightly guilty about it at the time, but knew it had to be done. He tilted his head up to face the sky.

"Alright, if anyone's listening up there… This is Dean Winchester. I need some answers." There was silence as the wind blew and the crickets chirped. Crowley opened his mouth to say something, but with a flick of his hand, Dean was able to mute him as he had seen Cain do before. It was a handy trick. He should have done it a lot sooner.

"Hey!" he finally yelled. "I'm _praying _to you! Aren't you supposed to get your feathery ass down here and help me out?"

"What angel adheres to the prayers of a demon?" a voice behind him demanded. Dean grinned, and turned around.

"Well, apparently you do." He looked the angel up and down. "…Hannah."

She stiffened, and the look on her face twisted. "I shouldn't be here, but I know Castiel would have come if he could. I'm just doing this as a favor."

Dean's gaze didn't stray from hers once. He didn't even give any sort of reaction to Castiel's name. Still, he couldn't help asking, "That stolen grace put him down yet?"

Hannah's eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. "No. But that won't be a problem much longer."

Dean was all ears. "Why not?"

"Metatron will help him. Metatron will help all of us."

This was news Dean did not want to hear. "Metatron? That douche is still kicking?"

"For now. The angels aren't happy with him. But if he can fix Heaven, we'll let him go."

"Let him… _go?_"

She nodded. "As payment for his services."

Dean scowled. What were these idiots thinking? Then again… this could be an opportunity for him to catch his killer, and exact his revenge. This didn't sound so bad after all. "And Sam?" he asked.

"What about your brother?"

"That's what I'm asking you."

Hannah's eyes flickered over to Crowley, who had grumpily gone to sit on the curb in silence. "He's still looking for you."

Dean nodded. "Of course he is." He glanced back at Crowley. "Someday… someday I'll have to pay him a visit."

Hannah watched Dean warily. "Is that it?"

"Not quite." Dean snapped his fingers, and a ring of holy fire sprung up around the angel. Her eyes widened as she looked desperately around her, disbelief coloring her face. She looked back up at Dean.

"You can't."

"Oh, I can, sister."

"I am _not _your sister."

Dean took a menacing step towards her, drawing out the first blade with a sadistic smile. "All you angels take things too literally. Try this one for size: You. Are. Dead."

He was going to make it quick. After all, Hannah had asked Cas to kill him. Dean was just returning the favor.

But just as he was about to deliver the killing blow, he heard someone yell from behind him. _"Dean!"_

No. Crap no.

He didn't even turn to face Castiel, who he knew was running straight for him. Cas couldn't see him. Not now. Not ever.

Forgetting Hannah, Dean whisked himself far, far away.

* * *

The moment Dean disappeared, Castiel heard an angry voice coming from the curb. "You _lost _him, you moron!"

Castiel knew he had little power left, but he forced the flames surrounding Hannah out. Then he turned to Crowley. "Where did he go?"

"Like _I _know?! He goes wherever the hell he wants to go, there's no rhyme or reason to it!"

Castiel could tell that Crowley was upset. He turned back to Hannah, who had joined his side. "I am sorry, Castiel. I knew you didn't have the strength to come down here and answer Dean's prayer, so I decided to do it for you."

Castiel shook his head. "I couldn't even hear it. But I was made aware that Dean's prayer was being heard by others, and I—" There was a sudden tightening in his gut, and his chest began to burn. He doubled over, clenching his teeth against the pain.

He felt Hannah's hands on his shoulders, trying to hold him upright. She was saying something, but Castiel couldn't make it out through the pain ripping through his body. He cried out, falling. The world was spinning. He was losing control.

The flutter of wings was the last thing he heard before he blacked out.

* * *

Candi skidded to a halt in the driveway and jumped out of the car. She was cutting it close. Aunt Maggie wasn't going to be happy.

Sure enough, once she walked through the door, Maggie was there, waiting. "Five minutes later and you would've cost me my job," she said, grabbing her purse.

"Sorry," Candi grumbled.

"It's alright, honey. Now, I've got to work late tonight, so—"

"Do you, though?" Candi asked.

Maggie paused on her way out the door, and turned to face Candi. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Candi knew Aunt Maggie was running late, but she couldn't keep ignoring the growing problem. "There's no more money left in the tin."

Maggie's face crumpled, and she started to back out the door. "Sweetheart, we'll talk about this later."

But Candi wanted to talk about this now. It had to be done. "You're buying alcohol again, aren't you?" she asked quietly.

Maggie wouldn't look at Candi. "Honey, please, I've got to go…"

"You've relapsed, and that's where all the money's gone. You said you were done the stuff."

"I _am, _Candi."

"Then where's the money? How come, even though you're working extra hours, there's no extra income to pay the bills?"

Maggie was silent for a moment, then she hefted her purse over her shoulder. "I'll talk to you in the morning about this, Candi," she said softly. Then she was out the door.

Candi stood there for a moment, listening as the car started and pulled away. She went into her room. Emptied her jar of savings onto the bed, counting every penny. Sixty-seven dollars and eighteen cents. It wasn't enough to get her anywhere.

Something hot pooled in the pit of her stomach, and she soon realized it was anger. It grew until, in a sudden outburst of rage, she screamed, picking up the glass jar and throwing it at the door. It shattered, and left a mark on the wood. She grabbed her pillow and pressed her face against it, the heat of anger cooling into the cold of hopelessness and loss.

She missed her dad.

The sobs racked through her body, her tears wetting the pillow and getting mascara everywhere. She didn't care. She just wanted her dad back. She wanted a different life.

She cried until her sobs turned into hiccups. Finally, she stood, stepped over the broken glass, and went into the kitchen to get a drink of water. Her throat felt sticky from all the crying. The water cleared her head, and she stared out the window into the blackness for a few moments, thinking.

She needed to get out of the house. She needed to get away.

Grabbing her ipod, she rushed out the door, putting her headphones in and turning it on. She found her favorite song, Keep Breathing by Ingrid Michaelson, and pressed play.

The acoustics began, and she took off running into the night.

She ran into town, which was pretty empty. Most everything closed at nine or ten, and it was currently 10:15. There were a few leftover tourists, exhausted from a long day of activities, and a few party goers heading to the bars, but otherwise it was quiet. _"All I can do is keep breathing," _Ingrid Michaelson's voice coaxed. That's all Candi would do. Focus on breathing. Getting through this.

She turned onto Seventh Street, which had old cobblestone. She loved the cobblestone streets here. She felt transported to another time, another place. Perhaps she was in England, when they still had horse drawn carriages and girls dressed up in pretty gowns and danced at fancy balls.

But then she remembered that not all of them were rich and fancy. Some of them had to live on the streets, or had no prospects because they were too poor to fetch a proper husband.

_That would be me, _Candi thought.

The chorus swelled, and Candi put on a burst of speed. _"All that I know is I'm breathing. All I can do is keep breathing. All we can do is—"_

She collided heavily against a body that appeared out of nowhere. Before she could fall to the ground, she was caught. "Woah there!" The man helped her up, and she pulled her headphones out of her ears, turning to apologize.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't even see you…" She trailed off, taking in the man in front of her. The first thing she noticed was what he was wearing. He was completely decked out in a white sailor uniform, complete with the hat. Jen always said she'd take down anyone who wore this kind of getup. Hard.

The next thing she noticed were his eyes. They glinted with mischief, and were a color she'd rarely ever seen. They were a light golden color, like honey. His mouth was quirked into a crooked smile.

Candi blinked several times. "Uh… yeah… I didn't mean…"

The amusement grew on his face as he watched her struggle through her apology. Suddenly, he stuck out his hand, interrupting her mid-sentence. "The name's Gabe. Your apology is accepted."

Candi hesitated, then took his hand. It was warm and firm. "I'm… Candi."

He nodded, a pleased smirk stretching his face. His hand dropped from hers.

"I'm the new lighthouse keeper," he continued, pointing. Candi turned, and stared at the old lighthouse that was just visible from the road.

"I didn't know we _had _a lighthouse keeper," she said, turning back to him.

"Well, you do now."

Candi had always been taught never to talk to strangers. It was an important lesson for her to learn, her dad always said, especially with the tourists coming in and out every summer. This wasn't any different. Actually, it was supposed to be even more of a danger because it was dark out, and so late. Candi was well aware that, apart from the drunk guy who had just stumbled out of a bar, there was no one else on the street with them. She began to back away.

"Well, uh… have a good night!" She put her headphones back in, giving him a little wave before turning and taking off running again.

When she got home, she remembered that she had shards of glass to pick up in her room. However, when she opened the door, there was no glass to be found.

In fact… the glass jar was sitting where she normally kept it on the dresser, fully intact, the money replaced. She frowned, and looked to the door for the telltale signs of impact from the jar. But there were none. The door was clear of any marks, chips, dents, or scratches. She shook her head, wondering if she was going insane.

She pulled on a tshirt and some shorts, and snuggled under her covers.

She didn't think much about the stranger she had run into, but she dreamed of a sea made of honey and monstrous lighthouses that night.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks to suburbantimewaster and guest Cindy for another great review! And thanks to Lysandria and XXBlackfireXX for reviewing as well! Excited to have ya! And of course, thanks to those who have followed/favorited this story- you're all fantastic!**

**Because Season 10 is airing on Tuesday, I want to give you guys a special treat: I'll update Chapter 10 tomorrow night! Thank you, all my lovely readers!**

* * *

Chapter Nine

Light fought its way through his eyelids. Consciousness returned to Castiel, and he slowly blinked his eyes open.

The blurry, grinning face in front of him was the last thing he wanted to see. He groaned, closing his eyes again. "What are you doing?" he mumbled.

Metatron's voice lilted in an annoying way as he spoke. "Why, Castiel, I believe I just saved your life."

Castiel opened his eyes again, feeling more awake now. His head throbbed. Images of Dean's hunched back and the gleaming first blade and holy fire flashed somewhere in the back of his mind. It was all coming back now.

"Castiel." He turned his head, and saw Hannah standing beside him. He realized he was in a kind of hospital bed. And he was in Heaven.

"Hannah…" He tried to sit up, but his head pounded and his chest constricted, so he laid back down. "What… happened?"

"I called for help," Hannah replied simply. "We knew the only way to save you was through Metatron."

"And how did…?" Castiel's question broke off when he saw the answer. He was hooked up to a tube that was feeding him a red liquid. Blood.

Metatron had a tube coming from his arm as well, feeding into another bag of blood.

Metatron's blood.

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "Angel blood?"

Metatron's grin made his entire face wrinkle. "You've got it, buck-o. Angels have traces of their grace flowing through their veins. It will help recharge your batteries, but not for long."

It was so simple. Castiel probably could have figured that out himself, and now he felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner.

"There are a few catches, though," Metatron said, face becoming all-seriousness. "The angel has to _willingly _give you his blood. Otherwise, it won't work, and the grace will be further corrupted."

Castiel nodded. That made sense. "Anything else?"

"Well. It keeps you alive. But your powers will continue to be limited. It's only a small portion of grace you're getting here. It'll burn low soon enough. You need to keep replenishing… maybe every week or two, depending on how much energy you use… and it'll keep you alive."

Castiel was quiet for a few moments. "That sounds incredibly tedious."

"You're telling me," Metatron said, leaning back in his chair. "I'll be the one providing your blood, my friend."

Castiel scowled. "What? Why?"

Metatron smiled. "Just like human donor blood, it has to be compatible between the giver and the receiver. God made some of our grace different than others. You, my friend, can only receive my type of grace. The grace of the privileged."

"You?" Castiel said, not quite believing what Metatron was saying. "Why are you any different?"

Metatron looked offended. "I'm the scribe of God, Castiel. He made me out of the same mold that he made the archangels."

Castiel put two and two together. "So I can also receive blood from an archangel?"

"Which archangel will you be receiving blood from, dear boy? Michael? Oh, wait, you locked him in a box. With Lucifer." Metatron put his finger against his chin, making a show of pretending to think hard. "Raphael? Oh, wait. You killed him. And Gabriel…"

"I understand," Castiel cut him off. "There are no archangels left."

"Precisely." Metatron ruffled Castiel's hair. "You've just got me, buddy."

Castiel couldn't even imagine being tied down to Metatron for the rest of his life. But for now, it'd have to do.

"We must help Sam look for Dean," Castiel declared, attempting to sit up again. This time he could.

Metatron held up a finger. "Aren't you forgetting something, Castiel?" He spread his arms wide. "I have to help fix Heaven. That _was _part of the deal, wasn't it?"

Castiel nodded. This was going to be more complicated than he'd thought. "I'll just come back whenever I need your blood," he said simply. "But… I have to help Sam."

Hannah cleared her throat. "Castiel, can I talk to you?" She glanced meaningfully at Metatron. "In _private?"_

Castiel nodded, and Metatron patted him on the head before unhooking himself from the blood bag and leaving. Castiel could always get Metatron's blood to go, he supposed.

Once Metatron had left, Hannah stepped closer until she was right above Castiel. "I understand how important it is for you to find Dean," she started. "But… we need you here. Now. Who knows what Metatron might do around here while you're gone?" She shook her head. "I don't trust him."

"I don't either," Castiel agreed.

"I think I can speak for all of the angels when I say that we'd feel a lot safer if you were supervising the rebuilding of Heaven." She sat down in Metatron's seat, leaning forward. "We're lost without you."

Castiel had a feeling it would come to this. Again, the image of Dean about to plunge his blade into Hannah made an appearance in his mind.

Hannah seemed to sense his reluctance. "Sam is looking for him. We have angels keeping a lookout. The best place you can be right now is here."

Castiel knew she had a point.

"You don't even have to be our leader," she pressed. "Just be here. For us. Help us."

Now he knew he couldn't resist. "Alright," he said finally. "I will help you rebuild Heaven."

Hannah's face broke into a smile. "Thank you, Castiel," she said. She took his hand in hers for a moment, then stood. "Get some rest."

Castiel nodded, and she left.

He stared at the blood bag that was giving him life for a while, trying to collect his thoughts.

It looked like he wouldn't need those blood bags to go after all.

* * *

Sam's heart pumped in anxiety when Cas called. At least he was still alive. He answered, hoping for good news.

"Cas! How you doing?"

"I'm… fine. I'll live."

"Did you make a deal with Metatron?"

"…yes."

Sam waited. "Well? What was it?"

"Sam, Metatron is the only one who knows how to fix Heaven. So, he helped me with my grace, and is now helping rebuild Heaven."

Sam's insides twisted as he realized what this must entail. "He's free, isn't he? You let him go?"

"Not exactly. He's under intense supervision. He's not allowed to leave Heaven." There was a pause. "Not without me, anyways."

"So what, you've got him on a leash now?"

"In a manner of speaking. He is the charger to my batteries. Without Metatron, my grace will burn out."

Sam took a swallow of his beer. He was at a bar in Connecticut, trying to plan out his next move. "So then he has _you _on a leash."

"I hope not for long," Castiel sighed. "But Sam, I need to tell you something. I saw Dean."

Sam nearly choked on the beer he had just tipped into his mouth. He set it down, coughing a few times. "_What? _Where?"

"Where Metatron killed him."

Sam waited for Castiel to elaborate. "So? What happened?" he pressed.

"He had Hannah in a ring of holy fire. Apparently he was questioning her."

"About what?"

"Us. He was asking questions about us. And Metatron."

Sam froze, pressing the phone closer to his ear. "So… did you talk to him?"

"No. No… I did not. He got away before I could."

"He didn't… hurt anyone, did he?"

"He was going to murder Hannah." Castiel sounded tired, worn out. "I showed up just in time and he… he left."

They were both silent for a moment. Then Sam asked, "What are you going to do now?"

"I'm afraid… I'm afraid I have to help here. I'd rather help you look for Dean, but given the circumstances… it's probably best that I'm here. As soon as we're done, I'll resume searching for Dean, if you haven't found him already."

"Okay." Sam nodded. "Okay, sounds good, Cas."

"Oh, and Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Crowley's out there. Dean left him behind. I don't know if he's found Dean again or not, but it didn't sound like he knew where Dean went. Maybe… maybe he could help you."

Sam huffed out a laugh. So they were working with Crowley now. That's what got Dean into trouble in the first place. "Yeah. Yeah, we'll see Cas. If I get desperate, I guess."

"Good luck, Sam."

"Yeah. You too, Cas."

He hung up.

It was a lot to take in. Metatron was actually keeping Castiel alive, Dean had almost killed an angel after questioning her…. Sam was about to take a sip of his beer, but paused. He set it down without putting it to his lips.

Metatron. Dean had been asking about Metatron.

That would mean he knew Metatron was alive.

Sam left the bar quickly. He was going back to the bunker. He would keep looking for Dean, let Castiel help rebuild Heaven. But if he ran completely out of leads… Metatron could be the ticket. He could be used as bait. The only thing was… he was the only thing keeping Cas alive right now.

So, it would be a backup plan.

After he settled all the details in his mind, he called Castiel back.

* * *

That first run-in with Candi was pathetic. Lame.

What kind of first impression _was_ that?

So, the next time he ran into her, he dropped a pack of Pepsi cans on her. Well, not quite _on _her. He missed. Just barely.

She had been pushing her cart past his Pepsi tower, and he couldn't resist drawing _some _attention. Also, he wanted to see how she'd react.

So, while perched on his ladder, he waited for the perfect moment, and dropped the pack. It hit her cart, making a loud clanging noise. She squealed, jumping back from the cart.

It was hilarious.

Her wide eyes found his, and he could almost feel the speed of her heartbeat in them. "Be _careful, _would you?" she said in a wobbly voice.

"You have any broken bones?" Gabriel asked, sliding down the ladder.

She looked caught off-guard by his question. "No…"

"Bruises?"

"Well, but—"

He was now right in front of her. He bent, surveying her. "Hmm. Not even a scratch."

Now she was scowling at him. "Pretty sure I could have been hospitalized."

"Pretty sure that's not necessary," he shot back with a smirk.

Her eyes narrowed. "You… you're that guy I ran into a few weeks ago."

Wow. Good memory. Still, he made a show of trying to remember her. Finally, he snapped his fingers. "Runner girl. Should be more considerate. Some of the guys go for the clutzy type, but…"

Now her eyebrows had shot up into her bangs. "_Excuse _me? You're the one who popped up out of nowhere!"

Now he really had her riled up. This was fun. "Psh." He waved his hands. "You were desperate for attention that night, clearly. Today seems to be no different."

Candi looked like she wanted to smack him across the face. Her own face had flushed red. She clutched the handles of her cart. "I'm talking to the manager about you." Then she frowned in a moment of confusion as she fully took in his Pepsi uniform. "I thought you said you were the new lighthouse keeper!"

"Maybe I was lying," Gabriel said, climbing back up the ladder.

Now it was her turn to smirk. "I can see why—Delivering Pepsi is quite a step down from being lighthouse keeper." She spun around and pushed her cart (rather viciously, Gabriel noticed) towards the check out.

"Better watch out for any rogue Pepsi cans," Gabriel called after her.

That instance had been so much fun that he tried it again. This time, he stole her bike. She had ridden it to that little boutique she worked at, and just left it sitting by the lamppost outside the door. He made a show of jogging past the window, where he knew she was rearranging the display case, and stop, glancing at the bike before barging inside. He even feigned surprise when he saw her, staring with disbelief at him.

"Oh hey, runner girl." He jerked his thumb back at the door. "Can I borrow that bike there?"

The shirt she was clutching was going to twist out of shape if she squeezed it any tighter. "No."

"Kay, thanks, be right back!" he called, dashing back outside and grabbing the handlebars. He rode off before she could even react, laughing to himself as he replayed the image of her face over and over in his mind. She was really going to hate him now.

Fifteen minutes later, he screeched to a halt in front of the boutique. He peered into the window to see Candi scrambling from the counter and rushing outside. Her face had gained that red hue again.

"You _jerk," _she practically growled.

His grin stretched wide across his face. "Thanks for the bike." He grabbed her hand, turning it palm-up. She squirmed, trying to break free, but he slapped a tanning coupon into her hand. Her blue eyes darted up to his, a fire kindling inside them. He smirked again, then turned away and lost himself in the crowd, whistling as he went.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: As promised, I am giving you Chapter 10 early! This will have to tide you over until after the SEASON 10 PREMIERE! I am so freaking excited!**

**Thanks to XLucyInTheSkyX, MrsDWinchester-Zen007, XXBlackfireXX, and Acute-angle-101 for your reviews on Chapter Nine! And as always, thanks to those who have followed/favorited this story! Enjoy! :)**

* * *

Chapter Ten

Crowley never found Dean; Dean found Crowley.

It had been nearly two weeks since their separation, and Crowley began to wonder if he shouldn't go to Moose and work together in their search for Dean.

But Dean appeared. Crowley was at a high class Italian restaurant—not that he needed to eat, but he did enjoy good food every once in a while, and he was tired of chasing false leads for Dean. So, when Dean was suddenly in the booth across from him, he startled a bit. "Bloody… hell," he rasped. "'Bout time you decided to show up."

Dean's eyes were hardened; the lines on his brow were deep. He was looking scarier by the day. "Let's take this outside, hotshot," Dean said, standing.

"But I haven't even ordered…" Crowley trailed off when he saw the look Dean was giving him. He made an overly dramatic sighing sound, and closed his menu. "Outside it is, then."

They were soon behind the restaurant, in a dark alley filled with garbage. Crowley scrunched up his nose. "You wouldn't rather go back inside?"

Dean's hand wandered to the inside of his jacket. "Nah. Too many people."

Apprehension made chills race up Crowley's spine. He watched Dean carefully. "Where ya been, mate?"

"Working alone," Dean replied simply. "And I've discovered… that's how I like it."

Quick as lightening, he had pulled out the first blade, and made a dive for Crowley. Crowley transported a few feet back. He had been ready. He raised his eyebrows at Dean, even though his survival instincts were begging him to _get the hell out of there._ "Really, Dean? After all we've been through?"

Dean's smile was not a pleasant one. It was cruel, insane. "Oh, I should have done this long ago." He popped up behind Crowley, who reacted a fraction of a second too slow. The blade grazed his waist, and he cried out in pain. That did a little more than sting.

It was time to leave.

Dean was going in for the kill, but by the time the blade came down, it only hit air.

Crowley was long gone.

* * *

_She tripped, scrapping her knees on the rocks. She didn't care, only got up and kept running. She didn't know what she was running from, but she knew she had to run. And fast. The water was pitch black as it moved in and out, washing bubbling foam ashore. _

_ It was getting darker, as if a giant storm were moving in. Candi was feeling suffocated by it, and knew she couldn't escape it. The ground suddenly disappeared from beneath her feet, and she fell again, rolling down the steep cliff and landing in shallow water, which fingered her skin, trying to draw her in. _

_ She just wanted it to be over. She began screaming, curling in on herself and covering her head. _

_ Then, there was bright beam of light. She felt a sudden warmth, and the water began retreating. She stopped screaming, and slowly uncurled. It felt like someone was draping a blanket over her. She looked up to find the source of light that had pierced through the darkness. _

_ It was the lighthouse. It was aimed directly at her, chasing away the dark and her fears. A figure approached her. He was bathed in light that was too bright to look at. She couldn't make out his face—it was too dark against the white light._

_ He reached her, and knelt down in front of her. She still couldn't make out his face, try as she might. But his very presence stilled her fears and made her feel warm and safe. He reached out a hand, and touched her forehead with two fingers. "It's okay," he said softly. "I'm here to help you."_

_ Her bleeding knees and scratched up arms were suddenly smooth and completely healed. It was like she had never fallen. She looked up at him in wonder. "How…?"_

_ He leaned forward, until his lips just barely brushed against her ear. "That'll be our little secret," he said. She could almost feel the smirk against her ear before a soft darkness crept upon them, fogging up her mind. She knew him, somehow. Try as she might, she couldn't catch the name, the face that was hovering right in front of her. Yes, she definitely knew him. _

_The dream was slipping away. Just as darkness enveloped her, she could have sworn she heard the flutter of wings…_

She woke up slowly, her mind surfacing into consciousness. Her blankets were so warm…

What time was it?

Candi shot upright in bed, checking the time. It was past nine. _Why hadn't her alarm gone off?! _She was way late for work at Mrs. Humphrey's! She almost tumbled out of bed, but then saw the date on her phone.

July fourth.

She relaxed, and sank back down into the pillows. She had the entire day off. No Mrs. Humprey's. No Hickory's. Just a day with Jen and fireworks at the beach.

She closed her eyes. Vague remnants of her dream floated through her memory, disappearing like mist in the sunlight. But the feeling remained. It was a nice feeling. A sense of security and warmth.

Finally, she got out of bed, and pulled on a red and white striped tank top to go with her blue jeans. She was feeling patriotic today.

She grabbed a bagel for breakfast, and checked her aunt's room. She was still asleep.

Candi left the house, mounting her bike and pedaling into town. She parked her bike by one of the docks, and walked out on it. She sat down, her legs swinging over the water, and ate her bagel, watching the boats moving about in the harbor. The day was sunny, and warm, with a few puffy clouds lazily drifting overhead.

The Fourth of July had always been one of Candi's favorite holidays. She would go fishing with her dad, and they would have a grill out and invite friends and neighbors to have the fish they had just caught that morning. Then they would all gather on the beach, and watch the fireworks. They never ceased to be Candi's favorite part of the day. It was always spectacular.

She refused to let the loss of her dad dampen this July Fourth, though. While she knew she would be going throughout the day missing him like crazy, she knew she would only ruin what could easily be a perfect day.

Jen met up with her, and they spent the day together. They went to Jen's house, where they painted each other's nails to match the holiday. Jen insisted Candi put on some eye shadow and pink lip gloss on to enhance her features, so Candi let her do whatever she wanted to her face. She wouldn't take out her braid, though. Jen didn't press it, and said it always looked cute in a braid anyways. "Candi just wouldn't be Candi without her braid," she teased, tugging at it.

Finally, when they were both dressed to impress, they headed out to mingle with the tourists. Jen was determined to find a pair of boys they could spend the day flirting with.

She bumped Candi in the shoulder. "Maybe we'll run into that weirdo."

Jen had seen the strange man with the irritating smirk steal her bike, and Candi had had no choice but to tell her friend all about this him and all the annoying run-ins. She huffed out a laugh. "Let's hope not." She didn't feel like being picked on today.

Jen shrugged. "He was kinda cute, though. I bet picking on you is just his way of flirting."

"Well, I wouldn't be interested in a guy who treated me like because it's the only way he can express his feelings, anyways," Candi said, raising her eyebrows at Jen.

She only shrugged again in response, but Candi saw the smile she still wore. Jen was amused by this guy.

"Maybe _you_ should date him," Candi teased.

Eventually, Jen's enthusiasm to find boys caught onto Candi, and soon she was helping scope out any potential hotties.

Evening came, and so did all the tourists. The streets were packed, there were more boats than ever on the water so they could get a good view of the fireworks. Candi envied them a bit. She hadn't ridden her dad's boat out on the water for weeks. She missed that boat. It was a second home to her.

Jen clutched Candi's elbow. They were at a restaurant that had an outside pier looking out over the water. Candi had just been looking out at the sunset reflected in the water and getting lost in her thoughts, when she was brought back to reality by Jen's touch. Jen nodded over at the table across the pier and wiggled her eyebrows. "They've been eying us."

Candi glanced over at the two boys there. One was a total beach boy—the blonde hair, blue eyes, gorgeous smile. The other looked like he could be a wrestler. He had short cropped hair, and some scruff on his jaw. He wasn't bad looking either. Candi looked back at Jen.

"So. Which one do you want?"

"Ugh, don't make me choose!" Jen whispered excitedly. "But… I think I'm going for the hunk. Guy with scruff."

"Which leaves me with beach boy," Candi said. She picked up her burger to take a bite, but Jen slapped her hands.

_"They're coming over!"_

Indeed they were. They were heading straight for their table, the beach boy's eyes flickering between Candi and Jen.

"Don't pass out," Candi muttered with a smirk, and Jen stepped on her foot.

The beach boy was the first to speak. "Hey, girls. Mind if we join you?"

"Not at all!" Jen said eagerly.

Beach Boy took a seat, but Hunky didn't actually look like he wanted to be there. He took a seat next to his friend anyway.

"I'm Carlos," the beach boy said, extending his hand to shake Jen's, then Candi's. "And this is Mike." He jerked his head towards his friend, total beach boy style.

"I'm Jennifer, but just call me Jen," Jen said, batting her eyelashes. Candi forced herself not to roll her eyes.

"Candi," she said simply with a small smile. She had a feeling Jen was going to want beach boy now. Which left Candi stuck with Mr. Grumpy Pants.

Candi soon found that her predictions were right. Jen shot off talking Carlos's ear off, and he responded with humor and his own stories. They clicked almost instantly. Candi glanced over at Mike, who was picking at his thumb.

"So," she started, "Do you do any sports?"

"Football," he said without looking at her.

That was about the extent of their conversation. Finally, Jen suggested they all go down to the beach to pick out good spots for the fireworks, since it was getting dark out. Carlos agreed, and Jen turned to Candi. "Want to get the blanket out of my car? Mike can go with you." She tossed Candi the keys with a smile. "Carlos and I will find a spot."

Candi very much did not want to be stuck with Mike, but she didn't say anything as she stood and glanced at her partner. "Let's go."

Mike looked like he didn't want to go anywhere with Candi either. So they walked to Jen's car in silence. As Candi was pulling out the overly-large blanket from the trunk of the Accord, she heard shouting, and Mike turned.

"Hey!" he called out.

Two more hunky guys and a girl who was all curves and blonde waves came over. "Mike, where's Carlos? Ready for the fireworks?" she asked, sweeping back her poufy bangs.

"Uh, Carlos found a girl. We were going to join them."

The girl glanced at Candi. "We?"

Mike cleared his throat. "Yeah, me and… and this girl."

This girl? _This girl? _She wouldn't be surprised if he couldn't remember her name. "Hi," she said, "I'm Candi."

The boys looked like they couldn't care less, and the girl eyed Candi up and down. She was judging hard core. Candi cleared her throat. "Actually, I have to go…" She thrust the blanket at Mike. "Take this down to Jen. Have fun, guys."

She locked the car, gave the keys to Mike so he could return them, and left. She heard the girl say something in a low voice to one of the boys, and they all laughed. Candi felt her face heat up. What jerks. She hoped Jen would have a good time, though.

Candi walked passed all the people who were making their way down the beach to see the fireworks. Well. Candi wasn't about to miss that. She'd just have to watch them alone.

She found her bike, and rode to where she and her dad used to live. It wasn't far at all from the lighthouse, which stood dark and still in the dimming light.

Her old house had been sold already, but the new owner said she could leave her boat at their dock. He was a nice old man.

Candi left her bike behind, and jumped into the old schooner. _The White Lady_. She smiled, patting the boat fondly, and searched for the key, which was supposed to be under the seat.

"Stealing a boat?"

The voice startled her, and Candi jumped up, trying to see who was standing on the dock, watching her. A white sailor's uniform glowed in front of her. "Oh, please no," she groaned. "Are you stalking me?"

"Pretty sure _you're _stalking _me,_" the man said. What was his name again? Jerkwad. That's what she'd call him. He gestured to the lighthouse. "I work and live here, remember?"

"I thought you were lying."

"I don't lie."

She stabbed a finger at him. "That right there? That was a lie."

"Okay, so maybe I tell a white lie every now and again." He smirked.

She shook her head. Did he really have to show up here? Now? "Whatever," she found herself saying, just because she didn't want to use any brain power to come up with another response. "Can you just leave me be?"

His eyebrows lifted a bit, creasing his forehead. "You're going off in that boat? Alone?"

"Don't pretend you care about that. I'll be perfectly fine."

He considered her a moment. She ignored him, finally finding the key and jamming it into the ignition.

"Candi."

She looked up, surprised. "How do you know my name?"

"You told me. After you bowled me over."

Candi remembered that now. "Oh."

He leaned against the wooden pole. "Remember my name?"

"Asshat comes to mind."

"Ooo." He sucked in a breath, but that infuriating smirk was still there. "That hurt."

"Almost as much as a pack of soda cans falling on your head?"

"I didn't hit you."

"You might as well have. If I'd been a _step _further…"

"Have you ever seen the fireworks from the top of the lighthouse?"

"Don't change the subject."

He stuck his hand out, offering it to her. "Actually, it was an invitation."

She scowled at him. "I'm not going anywhere with you, jerk."

"Gabe."

"What?"

"My _name," _he drawled. "It's Gabe."

"Okay, jerk."

He didn't reply. His eyes glinted in the little light that was left from the moon. He wiggled his fingers.

She stared at him, crossing her arms. Two could play at this game. But as he patiently waited, and she grew more aggravated, she finally pulled the key out and tossed it back under the seat.

"Fine. I'll watch _some _of the fireworks up there, but then I'm coming back down so I can be alone in my boat, okay?"

"Okay."

She shoved his hand aside and clambered up the dock without his assistance. Her foot caught on the edge, though, and she fell forward, right into Gabe's arms. She jerked away so fast she nearly fell off the dock and into the water. Gabe had to grab her arm to keep her from tipping over.

"On second thoughts, you might fall off the freaking lighthouse," he said.

She shook him off, and strutted off the dock, feeling incredibly self-conscious. She felt him following close behind. They were silent as they walked to the lighthouse, and Gabe stepped forward to unlock the door, holding it open for her. "Ladies first."

"Since when are you the gentleman?" she muttered, but stepped through the door.

Together, they climbed the spiral staircase to the top. The whole way up, her heart was pounding against her ribs. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. She didn't trust this guy, barely knew him… And no one was around if he tried to pull anything.

They finally reached the top, where the giant magnifying glass and light waited, unused for years. Gabe held open the door that led outside, and Candi stepped through it. A slap of wind hit her. It was cool up here. And the view….

Candi leaned against the railing, looking out over the water. Further down to her right, the beach was crowded with people. Behind them, Camden glimmered like a gingerbread house display.

There was a low booming noise, a high pitched scream as something whizzed through the air, and then the fireworks flared to life in front of her, lighting the world in reds, blues, and golds.

She felt Gabe lean on the railing next to her, folding his arms over the top. "Here we go," he said in a sing-song voice.

Together, they watched the firework display. It lit up the world in ways that were unique only on this one day a year. Candi remembered her dad telling her to close her eyes at one point, when she was little, so she could see the fireworks again behind her eyelids. She had done so, hearing the booming in the distance, and seeing the bright steaks and flecks of light etched behind her eyelids.

To her, it was magical.

She did so now, closing her eyes briefly and seeing the fireworks replay in the darkness. She opened her eyes again, and looked at Gabe. His eyes caught hers, and they were smiling at her. Laughing.

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

He shrugged. "You seem less grumpy up here."

She couldn't resist punching him in the arm. But not hard.

As they went back to watching the fireworks, she imagined her dad standing silently beside her, arm draped across her shoulder, eyes turned to the sky, a smile stretching his lips. He would have liked this. He would have told her they could touch the fireworks if they wanted, and watch as they exploded in rainbow colors across their palms, up their arms, and onto their faces in a warm heat.

And then they would have the power to fly.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I'm back! And WOAH Season 10 is so freaking good so far! I'm loving it! As a side note, I've written up to Chapter 13 BEFORE the Season 10 premiere. I'm trying to stick with my original thought process beforehand, and to not let the new episodes change things. But if they DO, I'll let you know. **

**Thanks to Acute-angle-101, XXBlackfireXX, Cindy, and suburbantimewaster for continuing to review! You guys keep me going! And Cindy: Gah, I WISH I wrote for a living! That is the goal... :) And how was the convention? That sounds like so much fun!**

**Also, school is getting to be a little more than I can handle currently, so the chapters may come a little slowly from here on out... :( I'll post as often as I can, and I promise I won't abandon the story! I just need to make the time to write!**

**As a final note: for this chapter... You might want to pull up the song "Just Give Me a Reason" by Pink and have it at the ready ;) Enjoy, guys!**

* * *

Chapter Eleven

"Candy, Candi?" Gabriel smirked at his own play on words, but Candi didn't look as amused. The fireworks were still going, making their way to a glorious crescendo.

Despite the look of slight annoyance on her face, Gabriel turned so his back was leaning against the rail, and he leaned closer to her face. "What's your favorite?"

She leaned back a bit, not liking the close proximity. "What?"

"Candy. What's your favorite candy?"

She hesitated before answering. "Skittles. The sour kind."

Gabriel reached deep into his pants pocket, pretending to search for something there. Then, he drew out a pack of skittles. The sour kind. He offered them to Candi, whose eyebrows shot up past her bangs. "Do you just carry a pocketful of candy to lure children here with?"

"They're not always children," Gabriel hinted suggestively. That gained him a punch in the arm. But it wasn't hostile or angry. It was more…. Playful.

She took the skittles from him and opened the bag, pouring a few in her hand and popping them in her mouth. She offered some to Gabriel, who accepted his own small handful.

Then they went back to watching the fireworks. Gabriel couldn't help stealing a few glances at her. She was such an odd little thing. She looked so fragile, yet had a strong spirit. He could see how brightly her soul glowed, even in the midst of her recent tragedy, and continued hardships. Heat glowed from the bottom of his stomach as he watched her watching the fireworks. Was he craving sugar? He began feeling restless.

Candi suddenly turned to him. "How old are you?" she asked. "Because I can't decide."

He smirked. "How old do you _think _I am?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, then shrugged, looking back up at the fireworks. "I don't know… late twenties? Early thirties?" Her eyes flickered his direction again.

Ha. If she only knew.

Right then a huge firework went off, and it lit her eyes and her cheeks and her hair up in a red hue. She didn't notice. She was still watching him, waiting for his answer. But that sudden light on her face… It threw him. He blinked, trying not to let his smirk falter. But there was something strange going on here. The heat in his stomach grew into something uncomfortable, like nerves.

The light left the sky, and the red hue disappeared. The moment was broken, but the strange and almost uncomfortable warmth still lingered.

Candi cleared her throat. "So… am I in the right ball park?"

Gabriel snatched her skittles from her and poured some of them into his hand. "Around there, yeah," he muttered.

Candi didn't reply, and they both turned to watching the fireworks. Gabriel refused to look at her again while they did so. Every time he did, he felt more restless. He didn't understand why. The feeling twisting around in his chest and stomach was foreign to him.

The grand finale was soon shooting through the sky, but Gabriel couldn't even focus enough to enjoy it. In his peripheral vision, he saw Candi lean forward. He risked a glance. She must have sensed it, because her eyes flickered to his. He instantly looked down at his hands, which he began rubbing together. Then he forced himself to stop. Was he really so uncomfortable that he was showing signs of nervousness? But what could he possibly be nervous about?

Before long, the sky was no longer lit with the bright explosions, and all became quiet except for the cheering on the beach below. Gabriel turned away from the rail. "Well. That was mediocre," he said, making his way to the door.

"I thought it was great," Candi said. He glanced her way, hand on the door. Her back was to him, and she was still leaning against the rail, looking up at the stars that now glimmered overhead.

A strange fluttering beat its way around his core. He pushed it forcefully away, and rejoined her at the railing. He watched her face, trying to dismiss the warmth that was spreading to his fingers and toes. She finally turned to look at him, and their faces were a foot apart.

Her blue-grey eyes flickered over his face, and a small smile grew on her lips. "Thank you," she said quietly.

Gabriel opened his mouth to say something clever and witty and possibly offensive, but found he had no air to speak with. He had been holding his breath. Why had he been holding his breath?

Candi's smile grew. "What? Cat got your tongue?"

Gabriel felt the overwhelming urge to boop her nose, see her reaction. He mentally slapped himself, and pushed hard off the railing, trying to snap himself out of whatever mental block he was having so he could come up with a witty comeback. He was coming up dry. So he changed the subject.

"What's your favorite song?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and watching her face. She tilted her head to the side, a little thrown by this sudden turn. Then she looked more and more bashful as she thought.

"You don't seem the type to like my taste in music," she said.

"Try me."

She made a show of thinking again.

"Just tell me the first song that pops into your head…. Go."

"Just Give Me A Reason," she blurted with a shrug. "By Pink. And that Fun guy."

Gabriel smirked. "What makes him fun?"

"No, it's the name of his band… Fun." She shrugged again. "You know, Those Nights, We Are Young…"

Oh, yes. He'd heard the last one plenty. He didn't mind that band. He tipped his sailor's cap in her direction. "Be right back."

He left her at the rail, rushing inside where the magnifying glass was and snapping his fingers. A stereo system popped up, complete with the nicest speakers around. "Just Give Me A Reason" started right up. He sauntered back to the door, leaning smugly against the frame. "This one?"

Candi turned, leaning her back against the rail and listening. A smile grew on her face. "Yeah. This is it."

Gabriel nodded, listening, keeping his eyes on Candi. "Is it always this mellow?"

She shook her head. "It'll pick up."

The stars were so bright behind her, giving her a kind of halo. Her eyes glistened in the dim light from the lighthouse. She frowned. "What?" she asked.

Candi suddenly didn't seem like an awkward gosling anymore. Maybe it was because they were up high, and Gabriel liked that. Or maybe it was the stars. Or the music. Whatever the case, he stepped forward, offering her his hand. "Shall we dance?"

Her cheeks tinted pink. "I don't really… dance…"

He took her hand, and twirled her just as the song picked up, gaining a beat. When she faced him again, she was smiling. He spun away from her, taking off his hat and bowing. She laughed, and he straightened, placing the hat back on his head and extending both arms out to her, giving her his most mischievous look.

She shook her head, the smile now wide on her face. She took his hands just as the chorus struck up, and Gabriel twirled her again. She spun out, and he brought her back in. She was so close now. He could see all her freckles, her lips parting as she inhaled. That foreign feeling gave a violent twist, and he let go of her, spinning away as if nothing had happened.

"Watch these moves," he said, swaying and snapping his fingers.

She laughed and joined him. They took steps closer to each other, then he dodged behind her. She spun, and they were both stepping backwards, further away from each other. Then they both spun together again, and Gabriel grabbed her hands, pulling her in again.

They danced for the remainder of the song. Candi's giggles were full out laughs now, and he jerked her back a little too forcefully. She fell against him, her body shaking with laughter. He straightened her, and the song wound down to its close. He grinned at her.

"You can dance," he told her.

She shook her head with a laugh. "No, that was all your great leading." Her eyes were shining brighter than he'd ever seen them. He would be content with dancing with her up here all night long.

She finally pulled away from him and checked her phone. "Jen's wondering where I am."

Gabriel watched her, trying to reign in the foreign feelings that were now pulsing through him. "You should probably go," he suggested.

She smiled at him. "But I'm having fun."

_Me too, _he wanted to say. But he wasn't going to. He tried to think of a witty remark, and blurted with, "All the girls do."

He instantly regretted it.

Her smile faded, and all he could do was watch as she realized what he was implying. "Oh. _Oh."_ She shook her head. "And here I was thinking you weren't such a jerk after all."

He didn't know what to do. Take the comment back? Could he even do that without making it worse? He only shrugged. "I prefer arrogant dick," he said.

She shook her head again, backing away from him. "Yeah, I'm going to go. Goodnight."

Her tone had changed. It was cold, unwelcome. He watched as she disappeared inside the stairwell. He stood there several moments, her lack of warmth leaving him chilled to the bone. He swallowed. He hadn't meant for it to take that turn.

But what was he saying? Why did he even care? She was just a human. Dean's human, no less. Since when did he care what others thought of him?

He heard the door open at the base of the lighthouse, and slam closed. He peered over the railing, watching as Candi marched in the direction of her bike.

_Go to her, _he thought. _Apologize. _

But he was much too prideful for that.

He watched her ride away, leaving the night quiet and empty.

* * *

It'd been three weeks since Castiel called saying he would help fix Heaven, and Sam was at a dead end. He though there was some suspicious activity going on in Wisconsin that might have something to do with Dean, but he found nothing there.

He was starting to get desperate. He considered calling Crowley, but in the end, didn't have to.

Crowley came to him.

Sam had gone out to get a beer when Crowley popped up beside him in his booth. Sam startled, and clutched the gun inside his waistband.

"Calm yourself, Moose," Crowley purred. "I'm here to help."

Sam forced himself to relax a bit, but still kept a wary eye on Crowley. "Why?"

Crowley sighed, and his hand gingerly touched his side. "Dean's gone… rogue."

"He tried to kill you, didn't he?"

Crowley waved the bar tender over for a drink, then leaned close to Sam. "He's a danger to everyone, not just demons."

Sam nodded. "How can you help?"

"Honestly, I only know as much as you do. But I'm prepared to make a deal."

Sam frowned. "Like a crossroads deal?"

Crowley dipped his head in a shrug. "You know that's the only way I can use my special abilities."

Sam shook his head. "No. No, I think I'll hang on to my soul a little bit longer."

"I'd give it right back."

"It'll be a last resort."

Crowley leaned back, rubbing at his chin. "Then what do you propose?"

Sam took a swig of his beer and eyed Crowley. He wasn't to be trusted. But the way things were, Crowley could be one of his greatest allies. Finally, he spoke. "The key… is Metatron."

"Ah, yes." Crowley leaned forward. "Continue."

"Dean knows that Metatron is still alive. He'll want to kill him. We could use this to our advantage."

Crowley's drink came, and he gave it a swirl. "And why, pray tell, haven't you done so already?"

Sam hesitated before answering. "Because… he's the only thing keeping Cas alive."

Crowley took a sip of his drink. "How so?"

"He's fueling Castiel's stolen grace with his blood. Apparently, his blood is the only kind Cas can take."

"It's a lie," Crowley huffed. "The bastard just wants to use Castiel's situation as protection."

"I've thought about that," Sam said. "I guess… I guess Castiel could always try another angel's blood and see what happens."

"Bloody nothing than what's already happening, most likely," Crowley grumbled.

"You really think Metatron's lying?"

"Really, Moose, I had no idea you were so thick."

Sam brushed off the jab, and pulled out his phone. "I'll call Cas."

"And once it's established that he can live without the scribe of God, we can sacrifice Metatron to the monstrosity that is your brother, yes?"

Sam found Crowley's enthusiasm slightly contagious. "Yes. And then we'll catch Dean."

* * *

After hanging up with Sam, Castiel pulled Hannah aside. "I need to ask you a favor," he said.

She seemed to puff up at the idea of helping him. "Yes?"

He led her to the room where they pumped Metatron's blood into bags, and Castiel helped hook Hannah up to it. She looked concerned. "But Metatron said…"

"When has anything Metatron said been reliable?" Castiel countered, watching Hannah's blood fill the bag.

Hannah still didn't look convinced. "Castiel, when humans get a blood transplant that isn't compatible, they die. The complications are too much."

"I understand your concerns." Castiel unhooked Hannah, and prepared to pump the blood into his own veins. Hannah grasped his arm.

"Is it really worth the risk, Castiel?"

He paused a moment. He didn't want to be tied down to Metatron forever. And he didn't want to be the roadblock to finding Dean. If Metatron was needed, Metatron they would use. It would be best to find out how that would affect Castiel now.

Besides, if something went terribly wrong, Metatron wouldn't have Castiel to hide behind anymore.

He stuck the tube into his arm. Hannah watched anxiously as her blood flowed into his veins.

Within seconds, Castiel knew something wasn't right.

The blood was burning him. It scorched its way through his body, making him feel like he was being quenched with fire. He quickly ripped the tube out of his arm, but the fire was growing in intensity. He gritted his teeth, and a high pitched ringing grew in his ears. He cried out, and he felt Hannah leap to her feet.

The ringing in his ears was going to split his head open. The fire was everywhere; he couldn't escape it.

This was it. He was going to die. Shrivel up into a dry husk.

He would never see Dean again.

He screamed, his body convulsing.

And suddenly, the fire receded. He felt something cool, like the trickle of water, moving from his forehead and spreading to the rest of his body.

He gasped, feeling how raw his voice was from the screaming. He shook, exhaustion taking over. His blurred vision slowly became clearer. There was a hand on his head, and a bag of blood hooked into his arm.

"Told ya," a horribly familiar voice chanted. "Let me know before you try to kill yourself again, Castiel."

Castiel closed his eyes, and green eyes flickering to black appeared behind his eyelids. They were cruelly amused.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thanks to all who followed and favorited this story! And thank you to my wonderful reviewers, for your encouragement! I'm so glad I'm able to post a chapter this weekend! I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! :)**

* * *

Chapter Twelve

"That is the _last _time I listen to your reasoning, Crowley."

The Moose was angry. As well he should be.

Crowley drew himself up, keeping his air of dignity about him. "At least he's not _dead."_

"But he _could _be."

"Well, he's not, so are we going to continue this mindless bickering or think of a Plan B for finding your rogue brother?"

Crowley hadn't actually thought Metatron was lying. But he knew Metatron was key. And if he was the only thing keeping Castiel alive, that was a problem. So, he convinced Sam that Metatron was lying. If he was, fantastic. Castiel didn't need him anymore. If he wasn't, which was evidently the case, and Castiel had kicked the bucket, well… Metatron would now be of no further use to Castiel. And they could still use him as bait.

But now that Castiel had survived his ordeal, things became infinitely more complicated for Crowley. He knew Dean was hunting him. He knew Dean would kill him. And the clock was ticking.

Sam had filled him in on their plan with the human, but Crowley thought it was rubbish. What had happened with Cain was a one-time-only sort of thing. There was no room in Dean's heart for love. He would gut the girl before getting to know her, much less love her.

He had explained these things to Sam, who he knew could see the logic in his reasoning. But it was the only plan they had to calm the Deanmon before finding a cure for him. Crowley supposed it was worth the shot. If he caught a fancy with the girl, great. If he killed her, well. They hadn't had much to lose in the first place.

Sam had stood, and was now pacing around the bunker. Crowley despised the place—Demon traps were everywhere, and his last visit here had been less than savory.

He finally sighed, annoyed at Sam's pointless frustrations.

"The dick angel doesn't even have to die," Crowley said. "He's only being used as bait."

"Yeah, and how often have things worked out for the bait in any situation?" Sam shot back.

There was a moment of silence before Crowley muttered, "Might be doing Castiel a favor."

Sam ceased his pacing. "What?"

Crowley raised his eyebrows. "Being chained to that angel for the rest of his life? I think he'd tire of it. Or die later on, anyway. I highly doubt Metatron is too keen on being Castiel's bunk buddy for all of eternity either."

Sam sighed, sitting back down and drawing his hands down his face.

"Do we have any other option?"

Crowley could think of another one. He wasn't going to be as daft as to bring it up, however. Sam was right—when has anything ever worked out for the bait? "Dean desperately wants to kill Metatron," he said.

"Yeah, he also wants to kill you."

Drat. Sam had caught on. "Don't even let the thought cross your mind," Crowley warned.

But it had, Crowley saw. Sam sat in his chair, thinking. He suddenly straightened, and the alert look on his face told Crowley he'd come up with something.

"Idiot… why didn't _you_ think of this?" Sam said, jabbing a finger at Crowley.

Crowley felt his feathers had been ruffled. "Probably because it's the most stupid idea in the history of stupid ideas."

"Use me," he said, stretching his arms. "Use me as bait."

Crowley narrowed his eyes. Sam continued.

"You don't want Dean to kill you."

"That would be ideal."

"So capture me. Torture me. Spread the word that you have me tied up somewhere. He'll come to you. Make a deal with him. Tell him you'll let me go if he'll leave you alone. I can talk to him."

Crowley stood. "I was right. That idea is beyond stupid, even for you, Sam."

"How so?" Sam stood, following Crowley into the kitchen, who helped himself to a glass of whiskey.

"Because Dean bloody won't make a deal with me, he'll kill me!" Crowley growled, swirling his drink.

"No, he won't," Sam insisted.

"You don't understand the power he has! He could take out a demon in the blink of an eye."

Sam seemed to be reconsidering his plan, but then his eyes lit up. "We'll revise this, then. Crowley—is there a way to connect my life to yours?"

Crowley frowned, and took a swig of his drink. "What do you mean?"

"As protection. Can you tie our lives together so that if you die, I die too?"

Crowley considered Sam for several moments. "You're serious?"

Sam nodded. "I am. As long as," he added, "we can break it after we get Dean to Candi."

Crowley considered this. He couldn't think of a better protection, assuming Dean believed it. Yes, this could work.

He stuck out his hand, and Sam clasped it in his. Crowley grinned. "Deal."

* * *

Candi had waited too long for this. She dipped her feet into the water, feeling the cold chill up her legs, giving her goose bumps. She closed her eyes, feeling the breeze cool her face, and listened to the crashing of the surf.

It was a cloudy day, and looked like it might rain later. But that was alright.

Candi finally had an evening off. And she wanted to spend it doing her favorite thing in the whole wide world.

She pulled off her shirt, revealing her red swimsuit underneath. She set it next to her shoes, and took a deep breath. Time to lose herself in the water.

The initial shock of the cold quickly subsided as the water engulfed her. Silence except for the swirl of seawater sounded in her ears. She opened her eyes. Yes, there wasn't much to see. But the feeling was what she loved most.

She'd never dreamed much of flying. But swimming… it was almost the same thing.

Her father used to call her a mermaid. "Runs in the family," he would chuckle. "We were born with a love for the sea."

She would imagine it, her feet turning into fins, enabling her to cut through the water and become one with the sea. She would never have to come up for air. She could just keep swimming and never stop.

She had given up the mermaid fantasy long ago, but even now, nothing filled her with greater peace and joy than swimming at the dock closest to her old home.

Unfortunately, the lighthouse was also just a half mile away, and Candi had no desire to run into Gabe again.

But for now, she set those thoughts aside, and simply swam around in the ocean. Under its depths she thought she could hear her father's voice, his laugh.

She broke the surface, and laid on her back, closing her eyes and drifting in the water.

She startled when something pulled on her leg, nearly taking her under. She began treading water, on high alert. Something grabbed both of her legs, and tugged. She grabbed a lungful of air before she felt water fill her ears. She was only under for a few seconds when something grabbed her arms and helped her up to the surface.

Candi shook the hair out of her face and blinked, trying to get a focus on who was grinning idiotically at her.

Her heart rate spiked when she saw who it was.

"Isaac!" she yelled.

His large smile made his sparking blue eyes almost crinkle closed. His sandy blonde hair looked light brown now that it was wet. He laughed. "Knew I'd find you out here, Can-Can."

She couldn't even describe how much she hated that nick name.

"You freaked me out!" she said, splashing him in the face with water. He whipped his head to the side, his ridiculously good-looking hair flopping with it.

"Hey!" He splashed her back, but lightly.

She backed away from him a little bit. He was way too close. "You're back for the summer," she stated.

"Yep. Would've been here sooner, but Mom had some important work to get done first, and I had a tennis tournament."

"You play tennis now?"

He shrugged. "It's a sport."

Isaac was a definite sport fanatic. He would try anything as mellow as golf or as intense as rugby. And it showed. As he tread in front of her, she noticed how well-defined his muscles were in his chest and arms. But Isaac had always been like that.

He nodded his head at the dock. "Dinner's on me. Pizza sound good?"

Candi thought about saying no. It was just like Isaac to disrupt her peaceful swim-time. But it'd been a year since she'd last seen him, and even if they weren't going out anymore, she knew he still wanted to be friends.

She wasn't so sure.

"Okay," she said, and the two swam back to the dock. Isaac pulled himself up first, and extended a hand to help Candi up. He pulled her onto the dock easily. He probably could have carried her with one hand if he wanted to. She noticed his discarded shirt, shoes, wallet, and phone next to her things.

"Did you just see me and jump in?" she asked.

"Of course," he said. "I thought I'd surprise you." That grin again. He picked his stuff back up and jerked his head towards town. "Let's walk."

* * *

Gabriel already hated the boy.

He didn't understand why he didn't have an instant disdain for him from the minute he saw his picture in Candi's computer. But that was beside the point.

Isaac, he called himself. He once knew an angel named Isaac. He was despicable too. It must be an Isaac thing.

He had been watching Candi carefully while she had her swim. Stalkerish, yes, but he had an excuse. He had succeeded in drawing her away from the water on the Fourth a week ago, but he didn't know how to convince her not to get in now. She hated him.

So, he watched.

And it was scary.

Any minute, he expected her to go under and never come back up. And then that jerk showed up and almost drowned her. Now she was going to get pizza with him. _Pizza. _

Gabriel couldn't wipe the frown from his face as he watched the two order a meat lover's pizza. Isaac said something that made Candi laugh.

Yep. Isaac was a douche.

The two took their pizza outside, and sat on a dock, watching the sail boats drift in and out of the harbor. Gabriel walked up behind them and leaned against a post, listening.

"So how's Jersey?" Candi asked, selecting a slice of pizza.

Isaac shrugged. "I like it. But I'm always excited to come back. Maine will always be home to me, you know."

Candi nodded. "At least your parents have the money to pay for two homes."

"Yeah, it's not bad." The pig had already finished a slice of pizza. He picked up another. He knocked his shoulder against Candi's. "How bout you? How you been?"

She shrugged. "I'm getting along fine."

Isaac thoughtfully chewed on his pizza before turning himself so he was facing her. "Candi."

She turned her head to look at him. "Yeah?"

"I know you. 'Getting along fine' is Candi-speak for 'everything is crappy.'"

"It's not," she said.

Isaac raised his eyebrows and waited. She sighed.

"I mean… I miss Dad."

He nodded. And then had the gall to touch her hand. The rational part of Gabriel said it was a comforting gesture. The irrational part said he was going to pull her into a bed tonight at this rate.

Candi continued. "And… money's always a problem." She set down her half-finished pizza and wiped the grease off her fingers with a napkin. She refused to look at him. "Aunt Maggie… I think she's relapsed. And that's sucking us dry."

Isaac was silent for a few moments as he watched her. "I'm sorry," he said finally.

Gabriel just couldn't believe Candi was opening up to this creep.

"It's fine," she said, picking her pizza back up. "We'll get through it."

He nodded. "Still want to go to college?"

She sighed. "To study marine biology. But at this rate…" She shook her head. "I think I might have to let that one go."

"No." Isaac scooted closer to her, and put his finger under her chin, making her look at him. "No, you keep aiming for that, Candi. If you keep working at it, you'll make it." He smiled. "You'll see."

Gabriel thought he was going to puke. Easy for you to say, rich boy. Isaac grabbed another slice.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, and then Candi spoke up. "I really want to get out of here," she said quietly.

Isaac looked surprised. "You love it here."

"I do." Candi took her flip flops off and dipped her feet into the water. "But I'm stuck. I can't progress at all. I'm stuck in this freaky kind of limbo."

Isaac tilted his head, trying to understand. Candi tried again.

"I want to start a life of my own. I want to live in a house, or even an apartment, that _I_ pay for. And I want to make good money. I want a pet. I want…" She shook her head, at a loss of words for a moment. "I want out."

This struck a chord in Gabriel. He remembered having a similar discussion with Michael, many, many years ago.

Gabriel had felt trapped. He loved his dad. He loved his brothers. He loved his home. But nothing he said or did was his own. He always followed Daddy's orders, or Michael's. He was the good little angel, once upon a time.

But he knew something was missing.

He would watch the humans, and envy them. They were allowed to choose. They were allowed to make their own decisions, and experience the consequences, whether they were good or bad. He watched as humanity progressed, learning from their mistakes, improving themselves.

Lucifer hated them for this reason. He argued with their father about it constantly. "You let them do whatever they want!" he had cried out in frustration. "And boss me around. You love _them _more than you love _me." _

And after Lucifer manipulated this freedom that humanity had to trick Eve in the Garden… that was the last straw. Their father had banished him. He was fallen.

Gabriel was caught in the middle. He didn't know what to think, what to do. He thought Lucifer had a point. But when he brought it up to Michael, he threatened to cast him out.

Eventually, Gabriel cast himself out. He left. He was done with his brothers. He was done with Heaven. He would be his own person.

It was hard, but he'd been able to do it. Candi, however… she was tied down.

Gabriel felt an intense stab of sympathy for her. And he normally didn't feel sympathetic to anyone.

Isaac had now eaten half the pizza—six slices. The sun was beginning to set, giving Candi's dark hair a ring of golden light. She stood. "I need to go. Thanks for the pizza."

Isaac stood up with her. "Let's hang out again." This punk smiled too much, Gabriel thought. It was sickening.

Candi smiled back. "Yeah, we should."

He held his phone up. "Text me when you're free."

She promised she would. Before she left, she gave him a hug.

Gabriel wasn't completely sure what the hot burn in his stomach was, but he didn't like it. Isaac was next on his hit list, that much was certain.

Candi finally left, and Isaac looked much too happy.

Gabriel waited until Candi was far enough away, then pushed Isaac and his greasy pizza off the dock. Isaac fell in with a yell. Gabriel stood at the edge of the dock, peering into the water with satisfaction. Isaac surfaced, spluttering.

Mmm, he needed to make this man's life even more miserable. Gabriel snapped his fingers, and Isaac was pulled down by an invisible force. Just desserts.

But, Gabriel thought sadly, he probably shouldn't kill him. So, after a few more dunkings, he let Isaac crawl out of the water, panting and staring frantically into the water, trying to figure out what it was that had been messing with him. Gabriel smirked, and snapped his fingers once more.

He walked smugly away, leaving Isaac to find the leeches in his pants later.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: A thousand apologies for the super long delay! But I think this chapter makes up for it :) Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites! And special thanks to Acute-angle-101 for getting after me about my long absence! And EmmaMarie, welcome to the family :) Enjoy, everyone!**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

Weeks on end of bars, booze, and girls wasn't enough to dim the burning of the Mark. It made him restless.

He hadn't killed anything since the bar in Lawrence. He'd attempted to kill Hannah. And Crowley. But of course that didn't work out. They'd only heightened his desire to kill _something. _

So. He thought he'd go on a hunt.

He'd picked up the location of a nest of vamps. Problem was, he wasn't the first one.

Dean heard screaming coming from inside the cabin in the middle of the redwood forest. An RV was parked outside, and a jeep. Dean clutched the blade as he snuck around to the back of the cabin, trying to peer inside a window.

"Please," he heard a female sob, "He was one old man. He was dying from cancer. We helped him!"

Another scream, and then a male laugh. "A blood sucker's a blood sucker, no matter what they eat."

Dean finally leaned into the window's frame to see what was going on. Three female vampires were hanging upright in chains from the ceiling. A man casually handled a blade dripping with blood.

"Just kill us already!" one of the vampires hissed.

"Gladly," the man, whose back was turned on Dean, answered. "But that'll come later. I'm having too much fun."

One of the vampire girls, the youngest, whimpered.

Dean's blood boiled. The Mark burned hot. His senses were on high alert. He teleported inside the cabin. "Excuse me," he announced, "but I believe that's no way to treat a lady."

The man turned. His pale gray eyes widened. "…Dean?"

Dean internally groaned. "Harvey." Harvey was always one of the cruelest hunters. He thought he'd been killed a few years back.

Harvey grinned. "Good seeing ya, man. Join me?" As he spoke, he drew the blade tantalizingly slow under the chin of one of the vamps.

"Trying to get information out of them?" Dean asked, even though he knew the answer.

"Nah. Just having some fun before chopping their heads off. And these girls are feisty. Makes it even _more_ fun." He grinned.

"You know what I find fun?" Dean asked. Harvey watched him expectantly as Dean stepped closer. In one swift movement, he punched Harvey so hard, he flew into a wall. After a moment of dazed confusion, Harvey scrambled to his feet, seething.

"Dean, you son of a-"

Dean punched him again, before he could react. Then he punched him again. And again. Blood dripping from his nose, Harvey grasped Dean's sleeve. "Dean… we've worked together. We're buds. What would your brother say?"

Dean smirked. "My brother doesn't know I'm here. But, before I kill you, Harvey… I wanted to show you a little something. Show that all your hunting has come to nothing." He punched Harvey's face again, then tugged at the collar of his coat, bringing him close to his face.

"You were bested by a demon." Dean blinked, and watched with satisfaction the horror that registered in Harvey's face.

"But… the anti-possession…"

"Oh, I'm not possessed," Dean said, getting even closer to Harvey's face, making him recoil. "This is who I am."

And he jammed his blade into Harvey's chest.

* * *

"Ever hear the myth that, when you hear a bell tinkle, an angel gets its wings?"

"That's from _It's A Wonderful Life," _Castiel said, making the connection from the storage of pop culture references crammed into his head. Suddenly, Meg's past nickname for him made sense.

Metatron grinned. "Told ya that'd come in handy."

Castiel didn't say anything. He watched Metatron carefully. "Your point…?"

"Well, in answer to your question—yes. The angels can get their wings back."

"How?"

"Why do you think I brought up the myth? It's not entirely untrue."

Castiel waited patiently as Metatron continued smiling. He was obviously enjoying Castiel's ignorance.

He went on: "It's in the _Garden_."

"What garden?"

"God's garden. The Garden of Heaven. The answer to your question."

"Restoring our wings?"

"Yes." Metatron leaned back in his chair, smugly watching Castiel. "There's a fountain there."

"With a bell?

"No, you idiot. But have you ever heard the tinkle of water against glass?"

Castiel was lost. "What… what are you saying?"

Metatron sighed heavily, and looked meaningfully at Hannah, who stood in the corner of the room, her arms folded across her chest. "And you really want _him _to lead you?" He shook his head.

"At least he didn't cast us out of Heaven," Hannah shot back.

"Uh… yeah, he did. I just guided him through the process."

An awkward silence ensued, which Castiel broke. "Tell me how this fountain works."

"It's like that bible story, with the guy who had leperacy. What was he told to do to be cured?"

"Wash in the river seven times," Hannah filled in.

"Exactly. Well, this fountain—it's like God's magical vat. It was where wounded angels would bathe after a brutal war."

"I thought that was a myth," Hannah said.

"Course not. We just wanted you to _think _it was."

"Why?" Castiel asked.

Metatron shrugged. "God's orders."

Castiel and Hannah exchanged looks. Castiel looked back at Metatron. "So you're proposing…"

"That we all take a community bath together? Yes."

Castiel nodded. "Show us."

"Sure. Mind if we fly?"

Before Castiel or Hannah could respond, Metatron grasped Castiel's shoulder, and they were instantly in the Garden.

Castiel had heard that the Garden's appearance changed depending on who saw it. Castiel saw the garden as a large piece of landscape lazily blooming under a setting sun. Trees of every kind cast shade over him and Metatron. The ripple of a brook sounded nearby, and birds twittered and bees hummed from flower to flower. Nothing was dead and dying; everything blossomed with life.

Castiel turned to Metatron. "You left Hannah."

"That was intentional," he said, clapping Castiel on the shoulder. "You and I need some alone time."

Castiel narrowed his eyes in suspicion as Metatron led him deeper into the garden. Fireflies began to glow as the sun's light dimmed, casting the sky in a pallet of oranges, reds, blues, and purples.

"Welcome to the Garden," a voice announced behind them. Castiel and Metatron turned to see Joshua, the keeper of the Garden. "What brings you here?"

"We need to find the fountain," Metatron explained. "You know… the one that heals angels?"

"Ah. The Fountain of Healing." Joshua shook his head. "You won't find that here, I'm afraid."

Castiel shot a look at Metatron, who narrowed his eyes. "You're lying. It's always been here. I wrote about it."

Joshua considered Metatron for a moment. "The former scribe of God," he stated. "You should know, then, that the fountain is just a fountain without God or the archangels."

Castiel frowned, and Metatron sighed, rolling his eyes. "Um, hello? Scribe of God? Don't you think I was blessed with some of the archangel's privileges too?"

"A few, yes," Joshua said. "But the fountain, I'm afraid, is not included."

"We'll just see about that," Metatron sang. "Show us where it is."

Joshua's mouth slowly tilted upward in an amused smile. "Of course," he finally said. "This way."

He led them through the garden. Castiel breathed in the scent of roses, mulch, and rich soil. Metatron reached up as they passed under an oak tree, and tore a fistful of leaves off. The tree shuddered as they moved on. Castiel felt wounded, as if Metatron had plucked those leaves off of him rather than the tree. Then again… Metatron had plucked away much more than leaves from him. And the other angels.

Metatron suddenly grabbed Castiel's arm. "You hear that?" he whispered with a wide grin. Castiel paused, and listened.

He could hear a small tinkling noise, varying in pitch. The Fountain.

Before long, they had reached it. It was an enormous fountain, made of glass and tinted pink. The water trickled from tier to tier, making the tinkling sound. Castiel remained hushed. He could sense the sacredness of this place, and was no longer in doubt that armies of wounded angels had bathed here, healing their mortal wounds, the kind they couldn't heal themselves, and returning them to full power. He was almost afraid to touch the water.

"Well, Castiel," Metatron said, nodding at the fountain. "Get in. Let's get your wings back." Castiel hesitated, then took off his coat. He took off his shoes, his socks.

"Okay, that's enough. You don't need to strip down to the nude," Metatron said in exasperation.

Carefully, Castiel stepped into the fountain. He felt unworthy, like it would burn him rather than heal him. The cool water came halfway up his calf, and lapped gently around his skin. But he didn't feel any different.

"Hold on," Metatron said. He swirled his hand in the water, then grinned expectantly at Castiel. "Anything?" Castiel shook his head.

Metatron sighed, and turned to Joshua. "Can I borrow your blade?"

Joshua looked to Castiel for permission. He hesitated, then finally nodded. Metatron sliced his palm, grimacing, and dropped a few drops of his blood into the water. They swirled away, first red, then pink, then hardly there at all.

A few seconds ticked by. No wings.

Metatron frowned, and spun on Joshua. "How do you activate it?" he demanded. Joshua's subtle smile was back.

"I told you—the scribe of God is not privileged in handling matters of war." He snatched his blade away from Metatron. "Now get back to your books, and do your job."

* * *

"We're going to be blood brothers," Crowley teased, fingering the thin blade.

Sam squirmed in his seat. "No."

Crowley shrugged. "The process is the same. Except," he smirked. "I'm not giving you any of my precious blood." He stretched out his hand, wiggling his fingers. "Your arm, Sam."

Sam hesitated, then gave it to Crowley, who bent over it, the blade poised. "You sure about this?"

Oddly kind of Crowley to check up on him. Sam gave one short nod.

"Oh, and it only goes one way. If you die, nothing happens to me."

Of course. Sam took a deep breath. "Okay. Just… don't die."

Crowley raised his eyebrows. "Please."

He made the cut on Sam's forearm, and collected the blood in a bowl, chanting something under his breath. Then, he shed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Sam watched as he made a cut in his own forearm with the same knife, and, still chanting, swirled his fingers in Sam's blood before smearing it over the cut.

Finally, Crowley stopped the string of Latin, and wiped his forehead, smearing some blood on it. "It's complete. Anything happens to me… well." He smirked. "The Moose is toast."

Sam swallowed. Maybe letting Crowley have his soul would have been better. Then again, even with the knowledge of where Dean was, they'd still have to draw him out. They would be killing two birds with one stone by drawing him in with bait.

Sam had neglected to tell Castiel about this new change of plans. He knew Cas wouldn't like it. Anyways, the angel had other problems to deal with. Sam wondered how Heaven was coming.

"Okay," Sam said, grabbing some gauze and wrapping his arm up. "When do we start?"

Crowley tilted his head, eyes narrowing with amusement. "Now."

Chains appeared around Sam's wrist, legs, and chest.

Startled, Sam gave a small struggle before staring Crowley down in exasperation.

Crowley smirked. "No better time than the present, eh, Moose?"

"I didn't even draw the devil's trap."

Crowley snapped his fingers. "As if I can't draw one of those nasty things." Sam watched as a glimmering trap appeared in front of him, then faded. "Invisible ink," Crowley said smugly. "But Sam…" He stepped around the trap carefully, until he was standing right in front of him. "I've already told you it won't work."

"It won't hurt to try."

"He's too powerful. The punk angel couldn't be contained by holy fire when he had the angel tablet."

Sam didn't say anything. Crowley sighed.

"I just hope this plan of yours works. He's changed, you know."

Sam watched Crowley carefully. "I know. Crowley… do you think the girl will work?"

Crowley didn't reply immediately. Instead, he whipped a white handkerchief out of his breast pocket and began to wipe Sam's blood off his hands. "He's pretty far gone now, Moose. He'll most likely kill her before exchanging pleasantries."

It was a blunt answer. But Crowley was a blunt guy, when he wasn't trying to get something he wanted. Sam thought about Candi, the ordinary girl who saw something out of the ordinary and forgot about it. She has friends. Her aunt. A job. She didn't deserve to be dragged into this.

And she could die as a result.

"If this doesn't work… we'll need to find a cure."

Crowley was now working on cleaning the blade. "I wish you all the best on that," he said with sarcasm. "Especially since I can almost guarantee you're little blood infusion trick won't work on him. Ninty-eight point nine percent sure."

Sam agreed with Crowley. Dean was no ordinary demon. Something else had to be done. The Mark had to go before they could even think about making Dean human again. He considered the wisdom of telling Crowley what he had in mind. "There's only one person who could know how…"

"Oh?" Crowley set the knife down and faced Sam. "And who might that be?"

Sam took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Lucifer."

Crowley sounded like he was choking on popcorn. "Are you out of your _mind?"_

"Maybe," Sam confessed. "But think about it. Lucifer _gave _Cain the mark."

"So you want to go poking at the box that holds not _only _the world's biggest baddie, but _Michael _too? You wouldn't even get near that thing to save your half-brother!" Crowley shook his head. "Shallow, _stupid, _impulsive, idiotic—"

"I _know, _it sounds crazy," Sam cut in. "It was just an idea. An extreme last resort."

"No," Crowley shook his head, pointing the blade in between Sam's eyes. "That will never be an option. The last resort will be to _kill _Dean, if you can. Are we clear?"

Sam flinched at the harshness of Crowley's words.

Crowley leaned closer to Sam's face, still pointing the knife. "I _said: _are we clear?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we're clear. Now get that thing out of my face."

Crowley obliged, and put it away. "And don't you dare entertain the idea again."

Sam didn't answer.

Crowley heaved a loud sigh. "Well, then. Shall we begin?" He snapped his fingers, and two demons walked in the door. Crowley whacked Sam as hard as he could, nearly knocking him out. The skin on his cheekbone split. He stared at his handiwork with satisfaction for a moment, then turned to the demons. "Get the word out—I have Sam Winchester. And he will die by midnight if Dean doesn't come to negotiate. Signed, with love, Crowley."


End file.
